


Necessary

by always_a_slut_for_hc



Series: Necessary Series [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:35:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_a_slut_for_hc/pseuds/always_a_slut_for_hc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith screws up, Lance is captured, and the blue light of Voltron is dimmed. Who are you really, Lance? And what do you need?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Heed yonder warnings! What it says on the tin: I'm always a slut for hurt/comfort. With lots of whump.

It had started out as a great day, in Keith’s opinion. No missions, no Galrans to fight, no threats to the well-being of the universe, just a day to relax and train. Even Lance’s incessant chattering as they sparred wasn’t enough to dim Keith’s mood. In fact, having Lance around was…kinda nice, and he was actually enjoying their banter as they fought. 

“Well, I think we’re special. That’s why the lions chose us, Keith, not anyone else! We have a destiny.” Lance ducked under Keith’s swing and danced away, firing training bolts from his bayard. For such a long, gangly guy, he sure was agile.

“It could have been anyone, we were all just in the right place at the right time. If not us, the lions would’ve found someone else,” Keith retorted, parrying Lance’s shots with the flat of his blade.

“No way. We’re all special and destined to save the universe! Without us, there’s no Voltron!” Lance struck a dramatic pose with his bayard raised. “We’re the ones, the only, the Defenders of the Universe!”

Just to get under Lance’s skin, and partly to cover the way his heart warmed at Lance’s earnest display, Keith snorted derisively. “Honestly Lance, it was all just coincidental. I mean, you’re just a cargo pilot! Blue just probably wanted to go home, is all.” He’d thought it was their normal trash talk, that Lance would fire back with something witty about how Keith’s hair situation invalidated any opinion he may have had, but no retort came.

Lance had lowered his bayard, and was actually standing completely still. Keith didn’t know if he’d ever seen Lance so still before, and with such a blank expression on his face. “Is that what you think, Keith?” he asked, voice low and quiet and completely unlike Lance. 

Keith frantically backpedaled. “No! No, I was joking— “

“Just because Blue is the friendliest lion, and I didn’t have to get thrown into space to fly her, and I wasn’t, oh what was it, the ‘best pilot Galaxy Garrison’s seen in years,’ it means I’m replaceable?” Lance’s tone almost seemed eerily reasonable.

“I mean, you’re not the greatest pilot, but that doesn’t matter, we can’t form Voltron without you and-”

“So that’s it. I’m just a leg to you. A leg who can’t even fly good.” Lance’s voice was still measured, but the calm on his face had started to slip. Keith could see the hurt in Lance’s eyes now, and felt his heart drop sickeningly to his stomach. 

“No! No, Lance, that’s not what I meant-”

“I know exactly what you meant, Keith. You’re a lot of things, but you’re not a liar.” Deactivating his bayard, Lance pushed past Keith and raced out of the training deck, leaving Keith gaping after him. Fuck. That had been the last thing Keith had wanted; he’d actually been enjoying sparring with Lance, physically and verbally. He’d thought Lance had thicker skin- but then, he’d been so offended when Keith hadn’t recognized him when they saved Shiro, and then he kept bringing up their petty rivalry, like anything that had happened at the Garrison even mattered anymore… Well. That was just Lance’s problem, to get all offended over nothing. Keith had even started to enjoy the other paladin’s company, liked seeing him laugh and the corners of those blue eyes crinkle up- Don’t even go there, Kogane. He cut himself off from that train of thought and cued up the gladiator. Level four began, and there wasn’t time to think about Lance as the robot attacked.

They avoided each other for the rest of the day, which was fairly easy to do in a giant castle ship. Keith brooded in his room, just like old times, before he’d been on a team. When it had just been him. Maybe that’s why he’d fucked up so colossally - he just wasn’t practiced at saying the right thing to people. He hadn’t meant for Lance to take it so personally, but looking back, Keith could see why he had. Lance’s greatest wish was to be a great fighter pilot. It was all he ever talked about, when he wasn’t talking about girls or his family on Earth. And Keith had just torn that to shreds. 

Lance wasn’t at dinner, which was strange as he loved to eat, and Hunk was cooking. The big guy looked worried and said, “Lance never misses dinner! Is he okay?”

Shiro, wolfing down Hunk’s latest culinary creation across the table, shook his head. “He contacted me earlier, said he just felt a little under the weather. But he’ll be fine.” The worried look didn’t leave Hunk’s face, and dinner was a subdued affair.

 

Keith was relieved when a new mission came down from Allura the following day. It was something to do, after all, and maybe it’d bring Lance out of his funk and they could get back to joking around and Lance’s face would stop looking so weird and expressionless. As they were rushing to their lions Keith tried to catch up with Lance’s long stride. 

“Hey! Lance!” Keith called, reaching for Lance’s shoulder, but stopped short when Lance jerked back and glared at him. 

“Just leave it,” Lance snapped.

“But-”

“Don’t, Keith.” And with that, Lance turned away from Keith and began his descent into the blue lion. Keith put on his helmet and followed suit.

The mission seemed simple: protect a small village from the Galra Empire. The village worshipped a strange artifact that Allura and Coran believed could somehow control Quintessence, so of course, the Galra Empire had sent a small fleet to acquire it. And that’s where the Defenders of the Universe came in.

The lions swooped down to the surface of the planet just ahead of the Galra fleet. “Alright team,” Shiro’s voice came over Keith’s communicator, “let’s form Voltron!” They flew in the practiced formation, Keith and Pidge swirling around each other, but the pull that usually came with formation was absent. “Come on, come on!” Keith muttered to himself, but nothing happened. Red stayed firmly in lion form.

“What’s going on? Why aren’t we forming?” Pidge yelled over the comms.

“I don’t know! But we don’t have much time to figure it out!” Hunk yelled back. He had a point: the Galra ships were almost on the village now.

“Uh, okay. Change of plans. Let’s take them on individually. But be careful, and watch each other’s backs! We aren’t as strong apart as we are together!” Shiro ordered, piloting his lion to face the oncoming fleet. 

As the two sides collided, Keith let instinct take over. He felt rather than saw Hunk take out a ship with a headbutt, Shiro expertly dodge two ships and send them crashing into one another, and Lance...

Keith couldn’t feel Lance through the tenuous teammate bond. He brought Red around, frantically looking for the blue lion in the chaos. Dodging bolts and ships, he finally spotted Blue, in a flat dive after a Galra ship that had somehow slipped past Pidge. They were headed straight for the village with Lance in hot pursuit.

“Lance! What are you doing?” Keith yelled into the comm. 

“Uh, my job?” came the reply. Lance fired on the ship, taking it down before it reached the village. Keith felt a little embarrassed; although Lance wasn’t as good as Keith or Shiro, he was still a capable pilot. Keith was probably worrying for nothing, but Lance had looked so hurt after their confrontation, and then they couldn’t form Voltron...he just didn’t want anything bad to happen. Especially to Lance. Not before Keith could apologize.

“Paladins!” Allura’s voice cut through Keith’s thoughts. “The castle scanners are picking up a cloaked infiltration force on the ground, and they’re nearing the village! We need to hold them off, but cannot tip off the fleet that we’re aware of their presence. I’m heading there now, but I need backup! Coran will pilot the castle.”

Keith opened his mouth— 

“I’ll do it, Princess,” Lance volunteered. Keith snapped his mouth shut, glaring at Lance’s lion. He hoped the effect wasn’t lessened by being almost a mile away.

“Good, Lance, your bayard will be ideal for picking the forces off from a distance. Be careful, and I’ll meet you on the ground!”

“Are we really sure that’s a good idea?” Keith asked, and then mentally kicked himself for it. Now Lance would take it personally again. And predictably—

“Really, Keith?! I’m as much a part of this team as you are. And I can do my goddamn job.” Lance sounded incensed, which was an improvement over his dead monotone from earlier, at least to Keith.

“No, I just don’t-” Want to see you get hurt, Keith’s mind supplied. He cut himself off abruptly, lips pressed together in frustration.

“Guys, don’t do this right now. Lance, you have your orders. Be careful. Keith, I need you to focus, there’s a fast son of a bitch doing some damage up here and we can’t catch it without you. Okay, team, let’s go!”

Keith reluctantly turned away to follow Shiro’s orders, but as he re-engaged the Galra fleet, a tiny part of his mind kept worrying about Lance. They didn’t hear any more from the two on the ground, but Keith figured they were busy taking down the ground forces. He himself was fairly occupied with taking down the fast Galra ship, but finally he destroyed it, the purple bastard. With that annoyance gone, the rest of the enemy ships went down easily, and the team landed on the ground near Lance’s abandoned blue lion and the pod Allura had taken from the castle. The four paladins met outside their lions, flush with victory, and looked around for Allura and Lance.

“I can’t hail their communications.” Shiro’s voice held concern, and Pidge immediately took out some little device they’d made. “Something’s blocking the communications in a localized area, nearer to the village. That must be where they are!”

The paladins raced off towards the signal blockage, only to meet a bloodied and exhausted Allura limping to meet them, but no Galra behind her. Hunk and Shiro ran forward to support her, and she slumped as they held her between them.

“I’m so..I’m sorry...”

Shiro brushed white hair stained with blood from Allura’s face. “It’s okay, it’s okay, “ he soothed. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

Allura took a deep breath and seemed to brace herself. “I do. It’s Lance. They’ve taken him.”

For the second time in 24 hours, Keith’s heart sank.


	2. 2.

It turned out that the cloaked Galra strike force had been a trap. There had been another force laying in wait, also cloaked, but with a new dark technology that hadn’t registered on Allura’s scanners. Lance and Allura had held off the ambush as best they could, frantically hailing the paladins, but the signal never made it through the Galra jamming tech. In the midst of battle, it had taken Allura too long to realize that the Galra had been targeting Lance specifically, and once they’d had him cornered, they were swift in their retreat. Allura had not been able to reach him in time. Lance was gone.

Her story done, Allura hunched in on herself, her face in her hands. The team stood scattered around her, matching expressions of fear on every face. Keith snarled and kicked at a bench. He had known something like this would happen to that blue idiot, and before he’d ever gotten to apologize, to tell Lance how he—

“Why would they take him?”Keith demanded, shoving away that train of thought and focusing on the problem at hand. “You’re more valuable to them than one single paladin. And they didn’t even make a move for his lion?”

Allura turned damp violet eyes to meet Keith’s. “I don’t know, Keith. And that’s what scares me.”

 

Lance woke up cold and disoriented on a metal floor, and with a splitting headache. Squeezing his eyes back shut, he almost called out for Hunk, to whine and moan and get Hunk to make his famous hangover cure, but then he felt the cuffs pulling his arms back behind him, and the battle came flooding back. Allura had been with him on the surface, was she—?

Lance jerked upright, frantically looking around for the princess. If she’d been captured, if he’d failed, then the universe was even more at risk and stupid Keith would have been right— 

She wasn’t there. Nobody was there. Lance lay on the floor of a dark, windowless metal room, completely alone. His first thought was honest relief, that Allura at least wasn’t here with him. His second was complete and utter panic. He was captured, on a Galra ship, surrounded by their hideous purple color scheme. This was bad.

Shifting around on the floor, Lance got his feet under him and tried to stand, only to crumple back down with a wave of dizziness. Head injury, he thought, probably a concussion. Not the worst thing that could happen, but definitely not optimal. Gritting his teeth, he tried the standing thing again. With minimal swaying and only a little cursing, he was up on his feet. Lance took stock: he was still in his paladin armor, with his hands bound really unnecessarily tightly, no helmet, no bayard. On a Galra ship. Crap. 

He’d barely had time to mentally curse Keith, because somehow this was his fault, when heavy footsteps approached and stopped in front of his cell. The door slid open, flooding the dark cell with ominous pink light. Lance squinted against it, and made out a tall, vaguely fuzzy shape framed in the doorway. The shape reached out and grabbed Lance’s bicep none too gently, pulling him towards the light.

“Hey hey! Careful on the guns there!” Lance yelped, but obediently walked in the direction he was pulled, though what seemed like endless purple hallways. He cast his eyes from side to side as they marched, but other than a small army of droids, the place seemed deserted. His captor was a tall Galran with an iron grip, wearing clothes Lance recognized as a captain’s uniform.

“Hey, Captain Catears, mind telling me what the deal is?” Lance’s bravado felt weak even to his own ears, but hey, he had a reputation to uphold here.

The Galra holding him turned his head to lock eyes with Lance, then smiled with way too many teeth. “You’ll learn soon enough, boy.” They’d come to a stop in front of a door. It looked just the same as all the other doors they’d passed. Lance wondered how they got around without numbering the damn things, but maybe things worked differently in space.

The door slid open, revealing a large room, still purple. Lance stumbled in at a push from the captain and looked around. It was dark, lit only by one of those gigantic holoscreens on one wall, and what looked like wires hanging down from the ceiling.

“Karsa,” the captain growled loudly, and Lance flinched in his bonds. A druid seemed to melt out of the shadows of the room and glide forward to meet them. Lance took a few steps back, but the door had already silently closed. He felt the cold metal press against his back as the druid came closer and grabbed his chin in her clawed hand.

“The blue one, then.” Her voice was almost sweet, but instead of soothing Lance, it only put him more on edge. Evil space witches had no business sounding so friendly.

“Yes. He was almost laughably easy to capture.” The captain flanked the witch, and they both looked at Lance with considering expressions. Usually he’d jump to defend his honor, but Lance really didn’t like the way they were looking at him. His mom used to look at chickens like that, when they’d grown too old to lay eggs, right before she went to the shed and got the hatchet.

“Perhaps he will be easier to break, then.” The witch turned away and moved to the control panel under the screen. Captain Catears roughly grabbed Lance again, but this time he struggled against the alien’s grip.

“Break me? There’s not gonna be any breaking! Except your noses, when I’m done here!” Lance kept up the act as he was dragged to the center of the room. The witch hit something, and the tubes hanging from the ceiling lowered. Enough for Lance to see that they weren’t tubes, but thick, heavy chains and cables. He sucked in a breath. He knew, roughly, what Shiro had gone through, and he’d been trying not to think about it. But now, as the captain re-cuffed his struggling hands to a chain above his head, and another druid (where did she come from?) shackled his kicking feet to the floor, all Lance could think about was Shiro. And all the stuff Shiro never talked about.

But they would come for him, his team, and Allura, and Coran. They would come for him. They had to. As the captain pulled the chain on his hands tight, forcing Lance to his toes, he hoped that they’d come soon.


	3. 3.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the whump begins. Tagged for torture for a reason.

Keith was frantic. Team Voltron had sprung into action after Lance’s abduction; Pidge and Hunk were working on building a machine that could maybe track the unique signature of Lance’s bayard. Allura and Coran were recalibrating the castle’s sensors to trace where the cloaked Galra ship had gone, if possible. Shiro was pushing himself to the limit trying to remember anything about the Galra prison vessels that might be useful to a rescue operation: sentry patterns, weak spots, ship schedules, anything. And Keith was…well, Keith was pacing around panickin, being of no help whatsoever.

There was just nothing he could do. Keith had never in his life had felt this helpless or this guilty. His mind kept replaying the cutting words he said to Lance, the wounded look in his teammate’s eyes, the last argument they’d had before Lance had landed on the planet’s surface: a never-ending clip show of Keith’s worst moments in recent history, guest starring Lance McClain.

Lance had been gone for three earth days. Shiro didn’t say anything, but everyone already knew: it was more than enough time for the Galra to inflict serious damage on Lance. After the first day, Keith had found himself pulled down to the lion bays, but not to Red’s; instead he traveled down into the blue lion. There’d been no need before for the paladins to go to other lions, but Keith felt…something from Blue. She needed comfort, or maybe he needed comfort from her. Either way, he’d been spending time in the cockpit of Blue, invariably thinking of Lance.

Blue really was the most easy-going lion. It fit that she’d picked Lance; in fact, Keith didn’t believe that anyone else would have been able to pilot Blue. They just fit together, and being in the blue lion almost felt…like Lance was still around. Keith shook his head sharply— why was he acting like Lance was gone forever? The team would find him, they’d bring him back here, Keith would apologize, and then everything would be just the way it should be.

“We’ll get him back,” Keith said out loud, lightly touching Blue’s controls. A very faint wash of relief and concern touched Keith’s mind, making him frown. Usually the lions didn’t talk to the other pilots. For her to reach out meant that Blue was scared too.

“Keith!” Allura’s sudden exclamation in his ear made Keith jump, shaken out of his brief communication with the Blue lion.

“Yes, Princess?”

“We’ve being hailed. By a Galra ship, long-range communications, no trace. They’ve sent a vid.”

“On my way.” Keith exited the blue lion at a dead sprint, running for the main control room. The vid was news about Lance. It had to be.

 

 

 

Unfortunately, it was.

 

Keith was the last to enter the control room; he moved to stand between Shiro and Hunk, eyes locked onto the view screen as Allura began the message. The vid opened on a close-up of some Galra commander, or captain, Keith didn’t care which. He’d kill the bastard either way.

“So, paladins of Voltron. I am Captain Vint, of the Galra Empire. It has come to our attention that you may be…missing something?” The Galra gave an ugly smirk. “We seem to be in possession of your lost…property.”

Vint stepped back, and the entire team gasped as one. Coran gave a choked sob. Keith felt his nails dig into the leather of his driving gloves as his hands clenched into fists.

Lance’s long frame filled the view screen. His arms were chained over his head, pulling his body taut like a bowstring down to his bare ankles, shackled to the metal floor. They’d stripped him of his paladin armor, leaving him only the thin flight suit worn underneath. And even that was falling apart; bloody claw marks raked down Lance’s left ribcage, and he had shiny burn marks littering his arms and chest. But that wasn’t even the worst part, the part that made Keith’s blood boil and his breath come out in short furious heaves: When Lance slowly, painfully raised his head, Keith saw it. 

They’d gagged Lance. With some sort of high-tech Galra muzzle that covered the entire lower half of Lance’s face. Keith felt incandescent rage burn in his gut, felt Hunk stumble back in shock on his left, heard Shiro’s ragged intake of breath. They’d gagged him, like an animal. Like a slave. 

But Lance, even chained, even with a gag, was still Lance. He looked exhausted but aware, and he even gave the view screen an exaggerated wink. One that unfortunately, the Galra captain saw, and slapped Lance casually across the face.

The Galra continued, but Keith could barely hear the words over the pounding in his skull. “This-“ he shoved Lance slightly, making him swing from the chains around his wrists. Keith saw blood, dry and fresh, where the cuffs dug into Lance’s wrists. “This is yours, yes? Well. I have a proposition for you. That is, if you desire him back. I would not blame you if you did not, however. He is quite…trying.” The Galra reached out, threaded his hands through Lance’s hair, and pulled. Lance’s head craned backward with the force, exposing the long line of his throat. Still Lance didn’t make a sound, but his eyes didn’t quite focus, and there was an almost invisible tremor that ran through him at the Galra’s touch.

“In time, if you abandon him to us, we will break him of his willful spirit and he will serve the Galra empire. But, if you do desire this one back, I am amenable to a trade. His life, for the black lion and its current pilot.” Next to him, Keith felt Shiro shudder and make a soft sound of denial. The Galra bastard continued with his little speech. Keith briefly fantasized about crushing his windpipe. “These are our only terms; I do not negotiate. If you wish to make a trade, contact this communications line.” He rattled off a frequency and continued, “It is untraceable. Be forewarned: if these demands are not met, if there is even a hint of subterfuge, it is he that will pay the price. Karsa?”

A druid melted out of the shadows on the screen, making Keith flinch. He hadn’t even noticed her. He did notice Shiro’s breathing pick up, and glanced at him in concern. Shiro’s jaw was clenched tight, and beads of sweat ran down his face. Beyond him, Allura made a sharp noise of distress. Keith turned back to the screen and blanched as he saw what the druid held out to Vint. 

The Galra took the electrowhip from the witch’s hands and brought it to life. Purple electricity sizzled along the length of the whip, crackling sharply as Vint gave an experimental swing. Pidge squeaked in fear, Hunk was muttering a constant stream of “no, no, no,” and onscreen, Lance-

Lance had turned pale, and his hands clenched in their bonds, knuckles white like Keith’s. Vint stepped slowly, purposefully around him, to his back. “Consider this a warning, paladins of Voltron.” And the lash came down.

Lance screamed through his gag, the only sound he’d made yet, as the glowing whip cut through his flimsy flight suit and into the flesh of his back. Again and again and again the whip came down, each crack followed by muffled screams torn from Lance’s throat. There was a roaring in Keith’s ears, like the ocean, like the rush of space. Someone was crying uncontrollably, big, gulping sobs of distress, but Keith couldn't look away, his gaze frozen to the screen, to Lance. The horrible scene seemed to go on forever. Lance struggled helplessly in his chains, the agony clear on his gagged face, and Vint’s arm came down steady as a metronome. Until finally, finally, the beating came to an end, and Lance’s broken screams quieted down into wracking sobs. Bright red blood stained the pristine white and blue of the flight suit as it streamed down Lance’s legs to pool around his chained feet.

Keith was on his knees— when had that happened?— and couldn’t tear his eyes from what he could see of Lance’s face. Pure misery and pain clouded Lance’s usually clear blue eyes, and his breath came harsh and ragged as he tried to control himself through the agony. His body shook and he sagged heavily against the chains that dragged him upright.

Vint dropped the still-glowing whip and approached the screen, once again blocking Lance from view. “Heed my warning, Princess. Or it will not go well for your wayward blue paladin. Vint out.”

The screen went dark.

Hunk was sobbing, braced against a control panel like he didn't trust his legs to keep him upright. Pidge, next to him, had gone very white and was still staring, transfixed, at the blank view screen. Keith dropped his head into his trembling hands where he knelt on the floor and thought of Lance, smiling, and Lance, screaming. 

“Okay.” Shiro’s voice, shakier than Keith had ever heard it, cut through the room. “Allura, contact the frequency he gave you. Let’s schedule a rendezvous, and make the trade as soon as possible.”

“Shiro, no.” Allura was clearly struggling not to break down, but she turned from the view screen to face the paladins with her usual air of command. “That’s precisely what they want— you and your lion, and they’ll more than likely simply kill Lance outright once the trade is made. We cannot risk it.”

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Shiro suddenly roared at Allura, and the clenched fist of his right arm glowed pink and dangerous. Keith was off the floor like a shot and sliding in between the two, reaching out to push gently at Shiro’s right shoulder. Shiro’s chest was heaving and his eyes were bright, but he met Keith’s gaze and, after a few tense seconds, let his arm power down. 

As soon as the pink glow faded, Shiro glanced away in shame. “I’m…I’m sorry, Princess,” he said thickly. Allura moved towards him and gently laid a hand on Shiro’s other shoulder.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, I truly am,” she said with the ghost of a sob in her voice, looking around at every paladin in turn. “And we will rescue Lance, I vow it. But not that way.”

“He— he doesn’t have much time,” Shiro said, still staring down at the floor. “When I was captured, I wasn’t anything special. I wasn’t a paladin of Voltron, the Galra Empire’s greatest threat.” Shaking his head, Shiro looked at Allura with a hopeless expression. “What they’ll do to Lance…I’m afraid to even think about it.”

The words felt like they’d hit Keith in the chest and flooded his veins with ice. Shiro was right— this little demonstration was only the beginning for Lance. The Galra would stop at nothing to achieve their objective, whatever it may be, and they’d inflict maximum damage along the way. Lance’s face from the video flashed in his mind; blue eyes dulled with pain, his normally expressive brown face frozen in place by the muzzle. And they could do so much worse. Shiro had never explained why he had so many scars, or why his hair was white, or how he got his arm—

Suddenly frantic, Keith broke away from Shiro and Allura and fell again to his knees. His chest shook with dry heaves as he thought of Lance, already bleeding, already scarred. They had to get him back before— but they didn't know where he was, how- Keith’s thoughts wouldn’t settle. He’d never been the best at making plans, that was Shiro, or even…Lance. Keith ran too hot and wild, preferring only to react and charge at the threat. This was like flying blind. If they didn’t even know where Lance was, how could they make a plan— His fingers curled against the metal floor plates of the control room. Slow footsteps approached, and then Hunk’s hand was on his shoulder as he knelt on the ground next to Keith.

“Keith. Lance— Lance is tough. He’ll be able to hold on until we get there. And when we do, me and you are gonna rain fire down on those bastards, and bring Lance home.” Hunk sounded shaken and fearful, but he also sounded like he believed what he was saying. That more than anything bolstered Keith, and he met Hunk’s eyes with a new drive. Hunk was right. Keith would save Lance, or he would die trying.

“I think- I think I might have something,” ventured Pidge. They hadn’t moved since the vid of Lance had ended, but now they turned to face the others. “I might have a way to track Lance.”

Relief suffused the room. If anyone could come up with something to find Lance, it was Pidge. “The frequency they gave us, to make the exchange for Shiro? It’s untraceable, yeah, but they’d have to be within a certain range in order to receive the message. So if we cross-reference that range with a more localized search for the bayard’s signature, we might be able to find Lance. Or at least narrow it down.”

Hunk had gone unnaturally still halfway through Pidge’s explanation. Once they’d finished, he leapt upright and grabbed Pidge’s hand, already dragging them away towards the lab the two had set up. “Okay, so if that’s the case, we’ll need an amplification of approximately—“

Their voices faded as they left. Allura turned to Coran, who looked to be still in shock. “Coran,” she prodded gently, “Go with them. Help them, tell them all you know about the bayards. I will pilot the ship.” He nodded, and with a muttered, “Princess,” strode out the same door Pidge and Hunk had left through. 

Shiro’s metal hand suddenly appeared in Keith’s face, and grasping it, he was pulled upright and into Shiro’s embrace. “We’ll find him,” Shiro promised into Keith’s ear, and Keith nodded. They had to find Lance, and bring him home. The team needed him. And Keith—needed him. He may as well admit it to himself at this point. Keith needed Lance, and he'd do whatever it took to bring him back home.


	4. 4.

The glowing purple lights in the room never changed, never shifted. Lance couldn’t tell how long he’d been a captive, nor how long it had been since Vint’s last visit. Lance was really starting to hate that guy. Back when he’d been able to speak, he’d insulted the Galra, the ship, the Empire itself almost constantly, in hopes that maybe one of his captors would let something slip in response. That plan hadn’t really worked, but Lance still kept up a constant stream of insults. It was about all he could really do, strung up like he was. Plus, trash-talk was one of his greatest talents— why let this kind of opportunity pass by?

The Galra hadn’t lasted long against Lance’s nonstop torrent of brilliant wit. They’d gotten sick of it when Vint had come in to beat him the first time; to “soften him up” for the video, Lance found out later. Vint had released Lance’s neck from his alien death grip, leaving him panting for breath. In between gasps for air, Lance had managed to choke out, “Whoa, man, a little too rough there. I think we need a safe word. Oh! I know! Mine can be _the Galra Empire can suck my di—_ “

Vint’s sucker punch straight to Lance’s gut didn’t really come as a surprise. “You know,” Lance continued, curling in himself as much as possible, “You’re right. That’s more of a safe _phrase_ —“

They’d gagged him permanently after that.

It came as a shock when some time after the video, Lance didn’t know how long, they came for him. He was still in a haze of pain after the whipping; his back was on fire and somehow still bleeding, and he felt completely drained. He lost himself in thoughts of the others, and how they would react when they saw the vid. He’d tried to put on a brave face, but he’d ended up screaming, despite his best efforts. Shiro wouldn’t have screamed, he knew, wouldn’t have given the bastards that satisfaction. But Lance had, because he was weak, weak, weak. And now the whole team _(Keith)_ had seen just exactly how weak.

 

The single door slid open, putting Lance on high alert. They were back sooner than expected. Crowding around him, the two druids released him from the chains and stood watching as he crumpled to the ground, curled protectively around his ruined bloody wrists. His back was pure agony that flared bright as the druids forced him up to his knees. One reached towards his face, and backhanded him roughly when he tried to flinch away.

“A willful slave has much potential,” the druid intoned, “If he can be broken.” Her thin fingers scrabbled at the binding of the muzzle, and she drew back when it fell from Lance’s face. He immediately took in a deep lungful of air, uncaring of how his ribs and back burned with the effort. Then the druid’s words sank in, and his blood ran cold.

“Slave? I’m no slave, I’m a paladin of Voltron!” he protested, but the druids were already moving. One on each side, they hoisted Lance up and forced him, struggling, to the side of the room. His still-shackled feet dragged behind him. A (purple, what else was new) chair was waiting, with all sorts of things attached to it that chairs shouldn’t have: restraints, exposed wiring, tubes of strange fluids attached to scary looking needles. Lance struggled harder, but the druids easily forced him down, and activated the restraints. Glowing pink bands wrapped around his wrists, upper arms, chest, and legs, and Lance was trapped. The druid-in-charge, Karsa maybe, retrieved something from a nearby table of similarly scary-looking things, and approached the chair with it in her hands.

A collar. A high-tech, glowy one, but unmistakably a collar. Shiro hadn’t mentioned _this_. For good reason, probably, but Lance couldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t think, period, his mind a terrifying blank as the druid fastened the collar around his neck. Smiling in satisfaction, she stepped back, and pressed a button on the control panel on the chair. The collar glowed in response and fused to the back of the chair. Lance’s head was yanked back roughly, and he choked for breath around the collar’s unyielding pressure.

“Yes, you are a paladin of Voltron. For now.” Karsa said in her voice sweet as honey. “But you will be a slave. I will see to it.” She signaled the other druid, who advanced on Lance holding one of the giant needles. Menacing pink fluid swirled in the tube it was attached to, but Lance couldn’t tear his eyes from the shining metal tip coming closer and closer.

“Put him under.” Karsa commanded. 

“No! Don’t put me under! Don’t!” Lance screamed frantically, even knowing that his protests wouldn’t do any good. He cast his eyes up to the purple ceiling, and thought of his team. He missed them desperately, but he knew they’d never take the offer. Maybe they’d come anyway, and he’d make up for lost time and tell Keith—

The needle plunged into the side of his neck. Lance gasped, body rigid and shaking as the fluid rushed into his bloodstream. It felt as though ice was pumping through his blood, freezing and weakening him. His vision greyed out, but he could still make out Karsa as she hunched over him with an expectant expression. “Now,” she said, “We shall find the truth.” Then his vision went completely black, and Lance was lost in it.

Frantic in the dark, he mentally flailed for something, _anything_. He thought of his team. They were coming for him, they had to be.

Something in the dark whispered, close to his ear, _what makes you think that?_

Lance shuddered and jerked away, but the restraints kept him in place. “They have to!” he yelled, then quieter, “They have to.”

_Who would come for you? Your friends are far away. Where are they, paladin?_

“They…they’re…I don’t know.”

_The wormholes. They went through a wormhole. Where do they go?_

“The wormholes…they go usually to—“ Lance cut himself off abruptly. “No! I know what you’re doing. It won’t happen. I won’t tell you anything!”

_Foolish paladin,_ the voice hissed. _You will tell us what we wish to know. After all, you are the weakest of the paladins. You stand no chance against us._

“That’s not true!” Lance was shaking now. The fluid, truth serum, he realized, was lowering his defenses, weakening him physically and mentally. He wondered if Shiro had gone through this.

_The champion, yes, he did undergo the serum. He performed better than you, was stronger._

“How…? I didn’t say anything!”

_We are in your mind, Lance McClain. Your every though is ours to know. Now. Tell us about the ship, paladin._

“N-no!” Lance struggled against the serum, but it was _inside_ him. Panicked, he shoved everything they’d want to the back of his mind. Passcodes, strategies, his teammate’s modes of combat….anything strategic, he locked away.

The voice came sweet and sibilant inside his head. _Willful slave. In that case, let us begin with other information. What do you fear, Lance McClain?_

Lance prepared himself to fight this question, too, but quickly realized that his attention couldn’t be divided. When he focused on resisting the pull of the truth serum, his grip on the information about the team, about Voltron, began to slip.

_You are not strong enough to fight us, are you, paladin?_

“Fuck off! Go play in an asteroid field!” Lance snarled, fighting to keep control.

The voice chuckled. _Amusing. This will be fun, paladin. Now, again. What are you afraid of?_

Lance struggled. The pull of the ice in his veins was too much, and he felt his mouth open. It was like he wasn’t in control, as every insecurity, every fear, poured out in an unending stream. He was afraid that Zarkon would kill him. He was afraid that Zarkon would kill the others. He was afraid that he’d never see his family, both on earth and in space, again. Never see Keith again. That Keith would find out how Lance felt—

The voice laughed, long and low. _Why would he want you? You, a cargo pilot, foolish and annoying and unskilled? What are you to the Champion? Nothing. He outshines you in every way. You bring down all of Voltron with your idiocy._

“No, no, that’s not…he doesn’t think that!” Lance cried. But the voice was ruthless and inescapable.

_Of course he does. They all do. You are the weakest pilot, the most useless member of Voltron. They will not come for you. They will take this chance to replace you with someone competent to pilot the blue lion. And the red paladin? He could never love a colossal mistake like you._

“That’s not true!” Lance mumbled, but his voice was weak. The truth serum in his blood pulsed in response to the truths the voice was speaking, and Lance was pulled along with it. “They wouldn’t…they wouldn’t do that…”

And then Lance was screaming, as sheer, blinding _pain_ shot through him. The chair was electric, and it sent current of energy coursing down Lance’s frame, making him seize in pain. Over his screams, the voice continued calmly.

_Do not lie. They would replace you. They likely already have. The blue lion is the most accepting, after all. It only took you, a terrible pilot, because you were the spare. It knew the others were meant for something greater._

The current had stopped. Lance was shaking in the restraints, lost in the blackness and the sound of the voice pounding truth in his ears. He’d thought the same thing about Blue often enough. And Allura never had told him the strengths of the blue lion, because he’d made that idiotic joke…was he the spare? Just the first person to climb aboard Blue, just a way for Blue to get back to the Castle of Lions?

_They will not miss you, Lance McClain. They do not need you. How could they? You are weak and useless. You are more trouble than you’re worth. And you are worth nothing._

The current began again. Lance couldn’t stop the scream ripped out of his throat or the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Fresh blood smeared the chair as the lashes on his back reopened with his struggles. Lost in pain, Lance’s eyes shut and he let the truth overtake him.


	5. 5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...just...heed the tags. And don't say I didn't warn you.

Keith stared at the pile of space junk, then looked up at Hunk and Pidge’s matching grins, then back at the pile of junk. “Is this…it?” he asked cautiously. They nodded in time, still grinning.

“And you’re sure that it will work?’” questioned Shiro, arms folded as he stood behind Keith. More nodding, and then Pidge jumped forward excitedly. 

“Okay so I won’t bore you with the technobabble (not that you’d understand it anyway but) this is 100% guaranteed to find Lance. Coran helped us out with the bayard thing and then Hunk had this brilliant idea…”

Keith tuned them out as his thoughts drifted to Lance again. He’d been on Keith’s mind almost non-stop for the past ten days, in more ways than one. Little things had been happening in the absence of the blue paladin, and everyone was on edge. Hunk was more focused and short-tempered than Keith would have ever suspected from such a laid back guy; Coran could be found sobbing in secluded corners of the ship; Shiro and Allura were both more tightly laced than usual. Pidge seemed the same at first, if a little more tense. Then Keith caught them almost crying once, leaning up against the blue lion’s massive paw for support. All the paladins had been spending a lot more time down in the lion bays — Keith figured the lions brought everyone comfort, and having Blue there lessened the widening hole in their lives that was Lance.

He knew Lance was loud, knew Lance was annoying, but there was so much more to him, thrown in sharp relief by his absence. Lance was humor and lightness and easy confidence, lightening their circumstances just by being himself. Without him, the vastness of space and the sheer scale of their mission bore down on all of them, relentless, suffocating. Keith couldn’t wait to get Lance back, safe, where he belonged, where he was needed so much. 

Although, Keith thought, then he’d have to give back Lance’s jacket; he’d found it in Blue a week ago, and had secretly taken it back to his quarters. He wouldn’t wear it— that felt wrong. But he smelled it sometimes, breathing in Lance’s fading scent of summer and adrenaline and whatever it was he put on his face at night. Keith knew he should feel at least a little embarrassed about it, but under the circumstances, he’d take what bit of comfort he could get.

His attention returned to his teammates when Allura entered, followed closely by Coran. “Paladins,” she greeted, and smiled wanly. “We have arrived at the system indicated by the— what are you calling this, Pidge?”

“The Lanceometer,” supplied Pidge. “It tracks Lance’s bayard, although if I could get it to trace that smelly stuff he puts on it'd be even more accurate—“

“—Yes, quite. Pidge, Hunk, if you would begin scanning.” The two engineers nodded, plugged the heap of space trash into the central console, and began tapping away at it. Allura turned to Keith and Shiro. “Shiro, have you devised a plan once we pinpoint Lance’s location?”

“Yes, princess. Keith, Pidge, and I will enter the ship like we did before, using the green lion’s stealth mode. With a ship that size, I figure we’ll need three of us to canvass it quickly. If you, Hunk, and Coran can keep them distracted, we’ll be able to rescue Lance and get out of there. We could even use the black lion as bait, if you think that would work.”

Allura nodded. “I think so. Be careful with him, when you do find him. There’s no telling what they could have done. He may be deeply wounded, or even dangerous.”

Keith glared and opened his mouth—

“Yes, Princess,” Shiro replied, his eyes cast down and far away. Keith’s retort died in his throat. Allura was right: they had absolutely no idea what Lance’s condition might be, if he was even still— 

Keith shoved the traitorous thought from his mind. Lance was strong, and tenacious. He wouldn’t give up, _ever_. Keith’s eyes traced the stars outside the ship. Lance was out there somewhere, still fighting. Keith just _knew_ it.

 

 

 

 

_Days earlier:_

 

Lance struggled towards consciousness and cracked open his eyes, only to see the same purple ceiling as always. His first thought was that he was really starting to hate that color.

His second thought was overwhelming shame. They’d hit him with that serum and did some stupid psychobabble and he'd _believed_ it? There was no way any of that was true. The paladins of Voltron would come for him, and then Lance and Blue would rip open this ship like a goddamn piñata.

_That is, if they decide you’re worth coming back for._

Lance jerked in his restraints. The voice was still here? He quickly glanced around the room as much as his collar allowed. Karsa wasn’t here, that he could see, or the other druid. Must have been reflex, a leftover from the serum, he decided.

_It’s the truth, Lance. Only the truth._

“Hah. Hahaha. No way, not falling for that shit again,” Lance declared, and slammed his head into the back of the chair, just for good measure. There was quiet, and he closed his eyes in exhaustion. 

He didn’t know how long he slept, dreamless, but it wasn’t long enough. The druids must have injected him in his sleep, because now the welcoming blackness shifted sinuous and purple, curling around Lance malevolently. And then the sweet voice started back up again, asking for coordinates, codes, any information that the Galra could use against Voltron. Scrambling for control, Lance shielded the information like before, but it was harder this time. The effort left him weakened, and he was helpless to resist the voice as it invaded every other aspect of his mind. 

It tore into all Lance’s secret vulnerable thoughts and feelings: How he felt when he’d been promoted to pilot, even if it was only because Keith had flunked out, and the crushed feeling of shame when Keith hadn’t even remembered him. How he yearned to be recognized as a valued member of the team, instead of just the team fuck up, the team joke. How _much_ it had hurt when Keith had called him replaceable, not least because he actually believed it. The voice wormed its way in deeper, and Lance was too weakened to stop it. _You really are pathetic, aren’t you._

It went on without end, this slow, torturous picking apart of Lance’s psyche. Sometimes there were the electric shocks from the chair, when he resisted too much. Sometimes, he’d surface into short bursts of lucidity, free from both the serum and the shocks. At first, he’d reassure himself that nothing the voice said was true, that the team was going to come for him, that he, Lance McClain, was stronger than this. But those moments of sanity grew further and far between, and the periods he spent under the influence of the drug dragged on longer and longer, until he couldn’t tell what was dream and what was reality. 

The first time one of the others came to him, Lance thought it was a rescue. Heart in his throat, pounding a staccato beat against the cool metal of his collar, he watched Hunk ineptly sneak through the room towards him.

“Hunk!” he babbled, beyond relieved. “Hunk, buddy, you’re finally…you’re here!” Looming above him, Hunk said nothing, made no moves towards the restraints binding Lance down. “Hunk?” Lance tried, not liking the considering expression on Hunk’s broad face. “Buddy?”

Hunk finally met his eyes, and spoke. “Sorry, man, but…on second thought, it’d probably be better for you to stay here. Safer. For us, I mean.”

Lance’s breath stopped, and he stared at his best friend in disbelief. “Hunk..no, I, that’s not tr—“

Hunk gently cut him off. “It’s kinda true, dude. You get us into a lot of trouble, and for what? I think…I think this might be for the best. I’m…I’m sorry.” And then he turned, and Lance, struck dumb, watched his best friend in the entire universe walk away and leave him still tied to a goddamn purple chair.

It had to be a dream, had to be a hallucination from this stupid _fucking_ drug they had him on. Still, though, the vision took a heavy toll on Lance, not least because every last word ‘Hunk’ had said was true.

They kept coming, after that, each time more real, more true than the last. Allura and Coran, regretfully informing him that he did not in fact meet the standards for being a paladin of Voltron, Blue would no longer accept him as a pilot, and thus there was no point in rescuing him. Pidge came and methodically listed every stupid thing Lance had done, every task or mission he’d ever failed at, every time he’d let his team down. They left him apologizing over and over, promising to do better.

Shiro came and watched him with dark, disapproving eyes. Lance sighed heavily. “I bet you did better, huh?” Somewhere, in the very back of his mind, Lance knew he was talking to himself. But hey, at least it was someone human to talk to. _I guess I’ve finally lost it_ , Lance thought half-hysterically, and then ‘Shiro’ spoke.

“This isn’t about me, Lance. This is about you.” 

“Wh-What?”

“Lance. Listen to me. We can’t come for you, okay?” Shiro’s eyes were soft and regretful, and he reached out with his flesh hand to brush away limp, sweaty hair from Lance’s forehead. Lance closed his eyes at the touch, so like his older brother’s, and mumbled, “I know.”

“It’s not that we don’t _like_ you, Lance, we do. We care about you. But Voltron comes first and Voltron doesn’t really need you, not really. We can’t risk a rescue, when we can just find another pilot for Blue, an even better one than you. You understand, don’t you, Lance? For the good of the universe.” Lance had nodded, miserably, as the voice echoed _true_ to Shiro’s reasoning. “I knew you would. Goodbye, Lance.” 

Lance hadn’t watched Shiro go, just squeezed his eyes shut as tears tracked down his face, cutting paths in the sweat and blood and grime caking his skin. He almost wished for the shocks, or for Vint to come beat him again, anything but this living nightmare. Maybe next time they’d just kill him. At least then he’d be free.

The last to visit was Keith, who appeared framed in the doorway, bayard drawn. Foolishly, Lance’s heart leapt at the sight. Maybe…maybe Shiro had changed his mind? Maybe they were coming for him, after all, and Keith had volunteered to be the one to rescue Lance… He watched with his heart in his throat as Keith crossed to the chair and stared down at him. Lance met those (gorgeous, intense) eyes and tried one last time.

“Keith, buddy, come on, we’re a team. Don’t-don’t let them leave me here. Please, Keith. At least just get me out.”

Keith tilted his head, considering. “How can we be a team?” he rasped. Lance was shocked into silence, and Keith continued. “You’re reckless, you’re stupid, you’re easily distracted. You’re the worst pilot I’ve ever seen. You don’t contribute to the team at all. So how could we be a team?”

_True. True. True._ Lance could only shake his head wordlessly, his eyes locked on Keith’s.

Keith went on, his eyes boring into Lance’s as he moved closer, walking around Lance’s chair in a slow circle. “And you know what the worst part is, Lance? That you _like_ me. That’s fucking disgusting, not to mention pathetic.” _True._ “We can’t be any sort of team. Not ever. Honestly, I wish I’d never saved you from that airlock. Actually—“ and Keith’s face twisted into an expression of pure malevolence, “I wish I’d never dropped out of the Garrison. Cuz then where would you be, Lance? Oh wait, I know—still a _cargo pilot_.”

Lance’s face had almost completely drained of color. “Keith, this..this isn’t you, this isn’t real—“ Keith leaned over the chair, forcing Lance to strain his neck in the collar to look up at him. “This? This _is_ real. This is all you deserve, Lance. We don’t need you, we don’t want you. Me especially.” And with that, he turned and left Lance in the dark, silent and reeling.

It couldn’t be true— _it was true_. No no no, he was drugged, that wasn’t real— _real, real, real_. Lance shut his eyes, exhausted. He didn’t know if it was real or a hallucination. He couldn’t tell anymore. He was just…tired. Real or fake, he was still here in the Galra ship. And he was _losing._ Now, when he surfaced from the haze of drugs and pain, he merely stared, unseeing. Even if it meant that he had to look at that hideous purple ceiling.

Time ceased to have meaning. He could have been there for days or weeks or even months, it didn’t matter. It was all the same now, just an unending stream of harsh truths and bitter realizations. Lance heard the voice almost all the time now. It spoke truths to him all the time, whether awake or in his drug-induced dream state. Although, even exhausted and beaten down, abandoned by the team, he kept tight control over the tight bundle of strategic information. But the rest of Lance McClain was slowly being drained away.

The monotony broke one day, when the door slid open and there was Vint, this time flanked by Karsa and two Galra Lance hadn’t seen before. They approached the chair, and Lance flashed them a watered-down version of his normal shit-eating grin. 

“Back for more sweet-talking, Vint? Like that got you so far last time—ah!”

Vint lashed out, his huge paw covering almost all of Lance’s face, shoving him back hard enough that Lance bit his tongue and tasted blood. “Ooh, did I hit a nerve, furball?” he gasped out against the pressure on his face. In response, Vint’s claws curled in Lance’s short hair, sending a shiver of fear down his spine. The shiver turned into a full-on shudder when Vint suddenly switched tactics, releasing Lance’s face and gently dragging claws down his jawline. Instinctively, Lance pulled away as much as the collar would let him, and Vint laughed.

“Still so much false courage, paladin? It has been weeks. Your team is nowhere to be found. They are not coming for you. Not to worry, boy—we know how you will serve the Empire.” That…didn’t sound promising. Lance gulped, his eyes still fixed on Vint, Vint’s claws brushing his jaw again as the captain pulled back.

“Now. I assume you’ve noticed your leader’s arm, yes?” A slight widening of Lance’s eyes seemed to be answer enough for Vint, and he continued. “The Galra know that we soldiers can be improved, always, although it is…difficult to part with one’s own limbs.” He glanced down at his leg almost ruefully. “The druids have something they’ve been working on, a plan for you. If you cooperate, it will not be necessary. If you do not…”

The words seemed to hang in the air in front of Lance. He couldn’t breathe. What Vint was implying…He thought of Shiro’s arm, how he couldn’t even remember how he got it, how sometimes he looked at it like he wanted to just rip it off. Shiro’s own limb, his preferred weapon was a constant memory of his year of capture. He’d never be free of it, never forget what had happened, and the same would happen to Lance.

But to cooperate with Vint was to betray Voltron, betray his team, betray the _universe_. His stomach sank and he struggled to breathe through the blinding fear. Even if…even if they never came for him, he couldn’t betray them. What kind of paladin, what kind of friend would be be then? _You are already a pathetic excuse for a paladin. They are not coming, they have told you why._

Lance slammed his head back to quiet the voice. Even…even if he was unworthy of being the blue paladin _(you are)_ , he had to at least try.

Vint spoke again, cutting through the turmoil of Lance’s thoughts. “Where do the wormholes lead, boy? Tell me.” 

Lance shut his eyes and took a deep breath. And then he spat a bloody spitball right at Vint. That’d get the point across well enough, he thought, and snickered.

The punch to his jaw shut him up; more blood leaked from Lance’s nose into his mouth, warm and metallic. Vint, disgusted, turned to his soldiers. “Strap him down,” he ordered furiously, and then wiped Lance’s blood off his uniform. One of the Galra moved behind the chair, and now something was rising out of the chair and coming towards Lance’s face. “Whoa—hey—“ he yelped, struggling, but the mechanism pressed his head flat and immoveable against the chair.

_Do not struggle. You deserve this._

Then Karsa moved forward, delicate hands gripping Lance’s jaw. Her yellow eyes peered into his, and Lance was honestly too frightened to even say anything. “He is a good candidate,” she announced. “And his weapon is a rifle, it is known.” Lance had no idea what that was about, but he knew he didn’t like it. 

“Good,” said Vint, and then looked back at Lance. “Last chance, paladin. Tell us all we wish to know, or we will take an eye.”

Lance’s blood ran ice cold in shock. “No—no—“ was all he could say, and he tried again to escape the chair, but he was held fast. Vint leaned over him and held his jaw, just like Karsa had. Lance froze, but panic still thrummed in his veins, frantic and shaky.

“Then tell us, boy. Where do the wormholes go? What are the codes to the castle’s particle barrier?”

“I—I can’t—“ Lance’s eyes darted frantically back and forth, but there was no escape, nowhere for him to run, no way he could talk his way out of this.

“They have abandoned you, boy!” Vint snarled, frustration in every word. “They have left you here with us. Knowing, especially your leader, what we would do to you. And still, they left you.”   
 _True._ It was true. His will wavered, eyes flitting from Vint to Karsa to the medical tools she’d pulled out of what looked like a space dentist’s office. Lance shuddered in fear, desperation turning his veins to ice, freezing his lungs. He couldn’t… if he just _told_ them, what would be the harm? Just the particle barrier codes, that’d be okay, right?

_It will be okay, Lance. The truth will set you free._ The sweet voice crooned truth in his ear.

He opened his mouth, codes at the forefront of his mind…and snapped it back closed. Lance couldn’t, he _wouldn’t_ betray his team, his family. Even if they’d already betrayed him, left him to rot here, he wouldn’t do it. Faces, their _real_ faces, filled his mind: Allura’s encouraging smile, Hunk’s warm grin, Pidge’s tiny face radiating hope and determination. Coran’s gentleness, Shiro’s free, happy smile, even after everything. Keith’s rare grin, quiet and affectionate, just for Lance. 

“No.” Lance said, quietly, firmly. He wouldn’t give up his team, his family. The ice still froze his veins with fear, but there was only one option that Lance could see. Heh, see. He chuckled weakly, hysterically, to himself, as Karsa and Vint drew closer. 

“Very well, paladin,” Vint stated coldly. “You have made your choice. Karsa?”

Karsa moved forward, tools glinting in her claws. Lance couldn’t squirm, couldn’t move, as she came closer and closer, her grin wild with anticipation. And then his whole world was red hot pain, and he screamed until there was nothing, nothing left of Lance at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I promise next time there will be a rescue!
> 
>  
> 
> (I'm sorry)


	6. 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: a little tiny bit of non-con here.

_Tap. Tap. Tap_

Deep sigh.

_Tap. Tap. Tap_

“Keith.” Pidge turned almost fully around in the pilot’s seat. “I swear to quiznak, if you don’t quit tapping your stupid bayard I’ll eject you out the airlock.”

Keith huffed indignately, but looked down at the bayard clenched tightly in his fist. “Sorry, Pidge. I guess I’m just impatient.”

Shiro’s hand came to rest on Keith’s shoulder. “We’re all nervous, Pidge. It’ll be better when we’re coming back out, with Lance.” Keith sighed, and a little tension bled from his frame as he put a hand on top of Shiro’s comforting one.

The three of them watched through the viewscreen of the green lion as the Galra ship drew closer. “He’s in there, alright,” Pidge said, looking at a tiny blue dot pulsing on their control panel. “Looks to be in the back half, near the bottom. Shiro?”

Keith didn’t like how Shiro’s hand clenched for just a moment, then went slack. “That’s where the cellblocks usually are. It’s not surprising that he’s there.” Shiro stepped closer to the screen, considering. “If we can enter in that part of the ship, it should be less populated. Especially once Hunk and the castle start to do some damage. Most patrols will be called to battle stations or fighters.”

As if on cue, Allura’s face materialized on the communications screen. “Paladins,” she said solemnly. “We will give you what cover we can, for as long as possible. But do not tarry: find Lance and return, as quickly as possible. We can heal any damage when he’s back on board.”

“Understood,” said Shiro, and Allura smiled, hope lighting up her expression. “I know you can rescue him, and bring him back home. Good luck!”

Her faith was almost infectious; for the first time in days, Keith felt like he was actually _doing_ something to help. As Pidge landed the cloaked lion on the enemy ship and Shiro sliced through the hull, Keith felt determination flow through his veins like fire. He would find Lance, and bring him home, and then he’d probably punch him for being so goddamn stupid and brave and just so _Lance._

The infiltration team crept through the purple halls silently, crouching in wait whenever Galra soldiers rushed down the corridors to their battle stations. Muffled booms and explosions signaled that Allura and Hunk had begun their distraction. “Okay,” whispered Shiro tensely, his eyes wary and watchful. “Pidge, find a station to hack into, see if you can find records of where he’s being held. Keith, you take this floor and the cellblocks below. I’ll move up. Keep in constant contact, okay? If you find him, let us know.”

They nodded and split apart. As careful and sneaky as they were being, the white paladin armor shone brightly in the dark purple corridors, making Keith wish for his jacket and (according to Lance) “emo” black t-shirt. He stuck to the shadows as much as possible, sword at the ready. He avoided a few robotic patrols, dispatched a few more with silent, swift decapitations. But there was no sign of Lance, and all the doors looked the same. All the cells Keith passed were empty.

Fear pushed him on faster, until he was running full-out down the corridors, looking for even the slightest sign of Lance, the barest hint of blue. There was nothing. Keith slid to a stop at a junction of two hallways, and tried to calm his panicked breathing. What had Shiro said? Patience yields focus, or something like that? His heaving breaths quieted, and then he felt…a pull.

Warily, he followed it. Maybe it was something to do with the team bond, when they formed Voltron? Keith didn’t know, but the slight tug at his mind was the only lead he had so far. The instinctual tugging got stronger as Keith wound his was down identical-looking corridors, until he came to a halt in front of an identical-looking door. It was slid just the slightest bit open, and a faint purple light shone through.

Cautiously, Keith pressed against the door, his eye to the gap. “Guys?” He whispered over the comms. “I found him.”

Lance was inside, still in his bloody flight suit. He was laying motionless on the floor with his hands bound behind him, his back to the door. 

“Good, Keith.” came Shiro’s voice. “We’ve got your location, we’ll meet you there.”

Keith made to open the gap further when a dark shape stepped in his limited line of vision. He froze.

“I know I won’t get information out of you, paladin, at least not the kind I want. You’ve made that abundantly clear.” The Galra paced around Lance’s still form like a giant, seven-foot cat stalking a mouse. “But as I said before: there are other ways you can serve the Galra empire.”

“That Galra bastard is here! From the video!” Keith hissed. “I’m going in.”

“Keith, NO!” Shiro sounded frantic. “There’s too much risk! What if he threatens Lance in order to capture you too? Just…just wait for me, I’ll be right there, I promise.”

“Fine.” Keith gritted out. Shiro had a point. Didn’t mean Keith had to like it. “Just hurry.”

Not waiting for a reply, he turned his attention back to Lance. The Galra (Vint, wasn’t it? Keith would not forget) had stooped down and pulled Lance up with one giant paw by a…was that a collar around his neck? Keith was shaking with rage, but he kept himself under control. Lance’s feet, stained with his own blood, dangled limply, and he didn't even struggle. That in itself worried Keith— it just wasn’t like Lance.

“This session is not for information, boy,” hissed Vint. “This is simply for my own amusement. I’ve ordered that we not be contacted, for any reason. So-” and here he gave Lance a light, almost playful slap that made Keith growl, “We have some time to kill. _Together._ ”

Quicker than Keith could even follow, the Galra raked the claws of his other hand down Lance’s side, digging in and slowly ripping. Lance’s body jerked, and muffled whimpers floated back to where Keith stood, horrified. They must’ve gagged Lance, again, and now that sick bastard was just using him as _entertainment?_ Keith’s blood boiled as he growled, “Shiro! Where are you?” into the comms.

“On my way! Don’t do anything rash, Keith, we could endanger Lance!”

Lance was already endangered, didn’t Shiro _get_ that? The Galra captain had dropped him roughly, and now Lance was on his knees, head bowed, blood pumping sluggishly from the slashes in his side. Lance’s sharp profile looked up just as the Galra grabbed his jaw. Keith sucked in a breath, body tensing at the sight of those big clawed hands on Lance. Teeth clenched, he watched Vint almost _caress_ his prisoner.

“Maybe this is what you’re good at? Hmm?” Vint’s voice had softened from a growl to almost a purr, and the sound sent a shiver of disgust down Keith’s spine. Lance wasn’t making any noise anymore, but Keith could see his hands shaking where they were wrenched behind his back. Vint was still holding Lance’s head, threading his claws through the matted brown hair. “I like you better quiet,” he said, and forced his clawed thumb into Lance’s mouth, stretching it wide around the gag. Lance _sobbed_ around it, his entire body slumping in defeat, and Keith couldn’t wait any longer.

Rage was like a fire in his belly, lending strength to his muscles as he wrenched open the door and charged full-tilt at Vint. The Galra was caught unaware, too focused on Lance, and Keith hit him with the force of an oncoming train. His veins pumped magma as he ran Vint through without a second thought. Choking, the Galra collapsed and slid off the bloody sword with a shocked expression. Keith turned away and fell to his knees, dropping his bayard to the side. Lance was still where the Galra had put him, kneeling on the floor with his head bowed, eyes closed. Fresh tears tracked through the dried blood and sweat on his face. Keith reached out, tentatively, and removed the gag from Lance’s mouth with shaking hands, words bursting from him uncontrollably.

“Lance? Lance, it’s me, it’s Keith, I’m here to get you out!”

Lance chuckled mirthlessly, and raised his head. “Sure you are, pal.”

Keith’s heart stopped short in his chest, and he fell back in shock. Lance’s familiar face stared back at him, one eye blue and wary; the other was a lens of blazing yellow light.

“What..what the _hell_ happened to your eye?!” Keith yelped, unable to stop himself.

“What, is this Obvious Fucking Questions Day? You should know, you were there,” Lance retorted venomously. He looked away, and now Keith noticed that the skin around the new lens was bruised the vibrant dark purple of recent injury. Keith’s gut clenched; if they’d just been a little earlier…then Lance’s words sunk in.

“Wait, what do you mean, I was there? Lance, c’mon, let’s get out of here.” He moved towards Lance, but stopped short when Lance flinched away. “Lance—“ he said pleadingly, hands outstretched. “Lance. We gotta get out of here, fast. I don’t know how long they’ll be able to hold off the Galra—“

“Keith!” Shiro burst into the room, and skidded to a stop where Keith and Lance knelt on the floor, barely glancing at the dead Galra next to them. “Lance! Are you guys ok?”

Keith noticed the shiver that went up Lance’s spine, noticed that he turned away from Shiro and Keith, clenching both eyes shut. It almost looked like he was…scared of them. But that couldn’t be right.

“Lance?” questioned Shiro gently, dropping down on one knee next to Keith, taking his cue not to touch Lance. “Hey buddy, it’s okay, we’re here to get you out.”

Tipping his face up, eyes still closed, Lance laughed that mirthless chuckle, the one that made Keith’s hair stand on end with the pure _wrongness_ of it. Lance should never sound so…bitter, so defeated. “You too, huh, Shiro? Gotta say, this is a new tactic. You almost had me there, _buddy_.”

Shiro and Keith shared a look of concern tinged with fear. Shiro inclined his head and widened his eyes at Keith, who turned back to Lance nervously. “Uh…Lance?” he ventured. “I…don’t know what happened to you, but we—“

Lance turned on him furiously, the artificial optic blazing. “Oh, you don’t know what _happened?_ Cut the shit, Keith. You were _there._ You said I _deserved_ it, or don’t you remember?”

Keith reeled back like Lance had hit him, speechless. Shiro stiffened to his left; he’d seen the eye, and the collar. Lance caught the motion, and an ugly snarl spread across his face. “And _you_ ,” he spat. “You _knew_ what they would do, and you left me here. _With them._ ”

“N-No, Lance, that’s not what happened!” cried Shiro, a devastated look on his face. “We only just got here, we didn’t leave you—you-you’re confused—”

“We would _never_ do that, Lance,” Keith cut in, his voice low and rasping with emotion. “Never.”

Lance’s eyes, blue and glowing yellow, flickered distrustfully between their faces. Then the human one rolled back white in his head and he fell forward. Keith reflexively caught him before he slammed face first into the ground, guiding Lance’s dead weight to his shoulder.

“Tha’s…weird…you couldn’t ever touch me…before…” Lance mumbled against Keith’s neck. Keith met Shiro’s eyes. “Handcuffs?”

Shiro was up like a shot, rifling through the dead Galra’s uniform. He scrambled back over and swiped a small fob over Lance’s bonds and collar. The collar stayed firmly on; the cuffs clattered to the floor. Lance inhaled in surprise. “Wha—What is this?” he demanded, his voice hard, but Keith could hear a tiny undercurrent of hope. 

“It’s a rescue, dumbass,” Keith said, muffled into Lance’s hair. There was a beat, and then Lance let out a breathless laugh and gave a tiny nod into Keith’s neck. Keith locked eyes with Shiro and nodded. Shiro came to Lance’s other side, and together they hoisted him up; Lance hissed in pain, and fresh blood seeped from the wound in his side.

“Okay, Lance, this is gonna hurt. But we have to get back to the green lion, and get you out of here, okay?" Lance nodded in response to Shiro, and they started forward slowly, achingly, making their way out of the hellish room into the corridors. Luckily, they encountered no enemy soldiers; Keith had no idea how they would have dealt with that. Lance was the only one with a ranged weapon, which Shiro had lifted off the dead captain and now carried in his own belt. Despite his obvious pain, Lance made no sound as the three made their way down the endless hallways; but with each glance Keith snuck at his face, his brown skin seemed paler and paler.

As they neared the green lion, Pidge raced up. They barely glanced at Lance’s yellow optic, now narrowed to a thin glowing slit behind drooping eyelids. “I know what they did,” they said in a rush, racing alongside the three. Keith and Shiro were fully supporting Lance now, his bloody feet dragging behind as they rushed towards escape. “I hacked into the system, they kept files on what they did to him. It’s…it’s bad. Real bad.”

“You think?” Keith gritted out. There was the green lion, finally, and they struggled aboard. Pidge ran to the cockpit as Shiro and Keith laid Lance on the floor as gently as they could. He was fully unconscious now, his side still seeping dark red blood. Shiro grabbed for the first aid supplies kept in the lions, and began to apply pressure to the wound. Keith sat down on the floor and cradled Lance’s head in his lap, cataloguing the many wounds littering Lance’s thin, now almost emaciated frame. Half-healed whip marks on his back and arms; third degree burns scattered on his chest; deep cuts and slashes on his torso; and everywhere there were bruises, ranging from sickly green to deep purple, suggested that he’d been beaten often. Keith’s stomach roiled and the familiar rage swelled in his chest, only to be overtaken by a sense of crushing sorrow. Lost in it, chest heaving, he bent over Lance’s head in his lap, smoothing the hair matted with blood away from his forehead. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered, as the green lion lifted off. “I’ve got you.”


	7. 7.

They reached the ship in record time, Pidge pushing the green lion as fast as they could. Coran and Allura were waiting in the loading bay with a floating stretcher. Shiro gently lifted Lance from Keith’s lap and onto the waiting stretcher. Feeling an acute sense of grief at the loss of contact with Lance, however little, Keith trailed behind the small, somber parade with Pidge, his eyes still trained on Lance’s still face. His eyes were closed, hiding the Galra optic; but it was still there, and the knowledge made sick guilt churn in Keith’s gut, as did the Galra collar still locked around Lance’s neck. Pidge didn’t say anything, but bumped their shoulder into Keith’s, drawing out a tiny, tired smile. Then they split off from the with Coran, to man the control room and finish the jump Allura had started.

The infirmary doors opened, and Keith’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of Hunk, frozen and sleeping in a healing pod of his own.

“What happened?’ Shiro asked Allura lowly, over Lance’s unconscious form. 

“He took heavy fire during the distraction attack. His injuries are minor: simply a broken arm and bruised ribs from a particularly heavy impact.” Allura moved to the pod’s controls and keyed in a command. It hissed open, releasing a cloud of cold vapor. Keith shuddered: he hated the healing pods, even if they were a miracle of technology. 

“Keith, help me out here?” Shiro asked, and Keith moved to Lance’s other side to transfer him into the pod. His hands had barely touched Lance’s back when his teammate’s eyes blearily cracked open, the yellow optic dimmed and dull.

“Lance?” Keith said softly. “You okay, buddy?”

Lance’s good eye shifted to look at Keith. “Y-Yeah. Never better,” he managed, and tried to muster up a ghost of his usual grin. His eyes landed on Hunk in his healing pod, and his face fell into a familiar expression of guilt.

“Lance! I’m so glad you’re awake!” exclaimed Allura, rushing to the side of the gurney. She stopped short at the sight of Lance’s eye, but managed to quickly regain her commanding demeanor, albeit with a slight quaver in her voice. “The pods work much faster when the patient is interred in a conscious state. You have grievous injuries, so—“

“The pod?” Lance interrupted, both eyes wide and frightened. 

“Well, yes, of course! You need healing, Lance—“

“No. No, don’t put me in there!” Lance started to struggle upright on the stretcher, only to be gently pushed back down by Shiro’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Lance. I’m so sorry about what happened, and we’ll talk about it later, I promise.” Shiro’s voice was low and soothing, like talking to a wild animal. “But right now we need to heal your injuries, they’re very severe.”

If anything, Shiro’s words agitated Lance even further. He fought against Shiro’s restraining hand, to the extent that Keith had to help hold him down on the other side. “No. No. You can’t put me in there.” Lance looked up at Keith beseechingly, one eye pleading, the other blazing yellow and white with fear. “Keith, buddy. Don’t let them put me in there.”

Keith, mystified at Lance’s baseless fear, searched for the right words. ‘It’s uh, it’s gonna be okay, Lance. You’re really hurt, you need healing.”

This was obviously the wrong thing to say. Keith cursed himself as the pleading look slid from Lance’s face, only to be replaced by a panicked expression. “I…but…I believed you were Keith…the voice knew….it knew the truth…” Lance’s eyes dropped from Keith’s face, and his breath came in short, heaving gasps, his eyes flicking wildly around at their faces. Keith exchanged a worried look with Shiro and Allura, frozen in horror on the other side of the gurney. 

“Lance, calm down,” Shiro tried, but Lance, with a sudden burst of strength, reared up from the stretcher and threw off Shiro’s restraining hand. He made to get off the stretcher, but Keith blocked him, shoving Lance’s shoulders back down. Lance fought against him with desperate strength, almost throwing Keith off-balance. Then Shiro was there, helping him hold their friend down. Lance struggled still, clawing at their hands where they held him, and blood pumped faster from the wound on his side, staining the gurney bright red. Keith cursed.

“Get him in the pod!” Allura shouted, her hands flying on the controls. 

“NO!” Lance begged desperately, grabbing at Keith’s wrist and holding on with a crushing grip. “Don’t put me in there, please stop, stop, don’t do this to me!”

“Lance, it’s for your own good!” Keith didn’t understand why Lance was reacting this way, they were his friends, they were trying to _help_ him!

“Do you have any sedative?” Shiro shouted at Allura. She nodded, removed a syringe from the pod’s supply compartment, and approached the stretcher cautiously. At the sight of the needle, Lance fought even harder against Keith and Shiro, but they held him down firmly as Allura brought the needle to Lance’s neck.

“No, no, don’t, STOP!” Lance screamed, voice breaking. Allura inserted the needle as gently as she could, and depressed the syringe. Lance had frozen when the needle touched his skin, and as the drug took effect, his grip on Keith loosened and his artificial optic dimmed as he stared at the ceiling. Keith wanted to comfort Lance, tell him it’d all be okay, cradle him in his arms, kiss his hair— He didn’t, though, and instead curled his hands under Lance as he and Shiro lifted him into the healing pod. Lance didn’t even look at them as they propped him up and fastened the restraints around him, to help hold him upright in the pod. He stared at a point beyond them, a tear tracking its way down his face from his human eye. Keith had the sudden urge to brush it away, but resisted.

“Lance,” Shiro said, ignoring the way Lance’s body twitched at his voice. “Lance, you’re just going under to heal, okay? We’ll be here, waiting for you, when you come out. You’re safe now, Lance.”

Lance ignored him, ignored all of them, and continued to stare fixedly ahead. Shiro sighed. “Okay, Allura.” The glass came down over Lance, freezing him in place with an expression of dead hopelessness that didn’t belong on his face.

They stood in tense silence for a few beats, just staring at Lance, until Allura suddenly sat down hard on the floor and buried her face in her hands. Muffled sobs came from behind her long brown fingers, mirroring what Keith felt. Shiro moved to comfort her, and Keith looked down at his hands, to avoid looking at Lance, so still and _wrong_ in the tube. They were covered in blood, Lance’s blood, from the whip lashes on his back and arms that had reopened during the struggle.

“We’ll need to keep a rotation,” said Shiro, kneeling at Allura’s side with a comforting arm wrapped around her. “He shouldn’t wake up alone. I’ll take first watch.”

Keith nodded shortly, and turned on his heel to head to his room. He had to scrub Lance’s blood off his hands. And maybe smell Lance’s jacket. And then he’d be right back, Shiro be damned. Keith would take _all_ the watches. He wouldn’t let Lance wake up without him.

 

 

The healing pods didn’t induce full unconsciousness; instead, Lance drifted uneasily through alternating periods of darkness and dreams. The voice, his only constant, swirled around him, hissing. _You never escaped, Lance. They would never have come for you. This is another trick…_ Lance shuddered, and the truth of the words cut down to his spine like a knife. He hadn’t escaped. This wasn’t his team, right? It couldn’t be. _They would never have done that to you, Lance._. It was true: he’d _seen_ it, seen through the false Keith at last, when he’d pleaded and begged and Keith had just stared at him, bound him up in the pod and _left_ him there. No, this was another Galra trick, just another way to make him break. But he never would. _No,_ agreed the voice, _You’ll never break, Lance._

He floated there, in the freezing dark, and all the while the voice whispered to him, until-through the darkness there was a light, a break from the monotonous black. Lance headed toward it, and broke free of the darkness. He looked around warily, taking stock. He was in the control room of the ship, lit up by stars and constellations and solar systems. Next to Lance, staring up at the stars, was Keith. His arm wrapped around Lance’s waist, and pulled him close; Keith smiled up at him, with that soft, affectionate look so rarely seen on his normally serious face. Lance smiled back tentatively, his mind racing. Was _this_ the real Keith, at last? Keith pulled him in tighter, and then there was the weight of the collar and chain on Lance’s neck. 

“Keith?!” Lance yelped in shock, then choked as the chain pulled back, pulled him away from not-Keith; Karsa held the other end, emerging menacingly through the projected star map. Another pull on the collar and Lance stumbled and fell, crashing to the ground on his back. Then Karsa was upon him, seizing his face again in her clawed grip. Lance tried not to whimper in fear. It was happening again, _again,_ and she grinned with sharp teeth. Keith stood with arms folded, laughing as Karsa reached for him, reached _in_ him, digging in the socket where his eye used to be—

He screamed, but nobody came.

He sobbed, and someone did come. Shiro stood, looking down at Lance. He could barely make out the silhouettes of Keith, Hunk and Pidge, and then Allura and Coran, in the hazy distance beyond. He was on…the floor? On his knees. Lance made to get up and Shiro’s foot caught his right under the chin, sending him sprawling. He curled tight on his side as Shiro approached. “Weak,” sneered Shiro, and kicked him hard in the ribs. Pain blossomed in Lance’s side, and blood poured from the wound, thick pink Galra blood. Quickly, too quickly, a puddle formed around Lance, soaking into his already-stained flight suit. ”Filthy traitor,” Shiro snarled, stalking purposely forward through the pool of blood.

“N-No! Never, Shiro, I didn’t— I wouldn’t— I didn’t betray the team! You’re my _friends!_ ” Lance cried out desperately, struggling to his elbows in the liquid still gushing from his side. Shiro’s Galra arm snapped out and closed around Lance’s collared neck, lifting him to his knees. “Oh? Then tell me, ‘blue paladin’, how you explain _this?_ ”

Shiro shoved Lance down, hunched over his knees, his long nose almost touching the deep pink blood _(his blood)_. Lance had no choice but to look into it: his own reflection stared back, with a blazing yellow Galra eye. HIs stomach sank. It couldn’t-that couldn’t be—

_You haven’t escaped._

“That’s—that’s not me! They-they did this to me— _You_ did this to me! _You’re_ the Galra here, not me!”

“Oh?” said Shiro again, and the smooth tenor of his voice was amused. Lance, immobilized, slid his eyes up at his commander. Shiro wasn’t there. In his place, still holding Lance down, was—

“Vint.” Lance breathed. The Galra captain laughed with Shiro’s voice, and forced Lance’s head inexorably closer to the pool of his own blood. 

“No, no, nononono————“

Lance came out of the pod still gasping and choking for air. Someone caught him with warm, supportive arms, and he sagged against them, eyes closed, letting them hold him up.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, then froze. The collar was still around his neck. 

_Nobody came._

“Hey, Lance,” someone was saying worriedly. Keith, although Lance had never heard him sound like that. Or had he? Flashes of a red sword and a fond insult— Lance pushed the thoughts away. “Lance? Are you ok? You weren’t supposed to come out of cryo so soon.”

_You can’t trust him. Soon enough he will reveal his true colors._

Lance remembered. How the not-Keith in the dark room had watched, had laughed as Lance screamed, had broken Lance’s heart.

_Yes, remember. Remember how he hurt you. You haven’t escaped._

Frantically, he catalogued. His hands were free, currently wrapped around a hallucination of Keith. However. The hallucination still had a knife.

“Yeah, man, I’m feeling a lot better,” Lance answered, reaching his right hand for the knife in not-Keith’s belt.

“That’s a relief!” came Keith’s voice, and it almost sounded sincere. _Almost._ “I—Lance—I’m so sorry for—“

Lance yanked the knife free, and with a smooth motion that _real_ Keith had taught him, broke free and brought the knife up to not-Keith’s neck, drawing a tiny bead of blood from the pale skin. The false Keith’s eyes were huge with shock, his body motionless. Lance’s heart twinged, and he faintly remembered shaking fingers removing a gag--

_It is a trick, a game._

“I don’t like your little _game_ , Galra filth,” Lance spat, refocusing. “Now, if you’ll kindly excuse me, I’m going back home, to my team.”

Not-Keith’s eyes managed to get even bigger. “Lance, what are you talking about?! You _are_ home, we rescued you—“

_Lies. All lies. Nobody came._

“Sure, sure,” Lance said, fingering the collar. “That’s why _this_ is still on, and why you fuckers forced me into the horror show nightmare pod. Makes perfect sense! _NOT.”_

Not-Keith’s jaw dropped. He tried again, “Lance—“

“Nope! Lance isn’t here right now. _Take a message._ ” With that, Lance flipped the knife and hit not-Keith in the temple. The hallucination crumpled to the floor in a pathetic heap. Lance looked at the knife. He’d never been able to do _that_ before. Experimentally, he flipped it again, and now he noticed the Galra optic instantaneously calculating velocity, trajectory, rate of rotation…”Huh.”

He threw on his armor, pocketed the knife, and attached his bayard to his hip. Without a backward glance, he left the room at a dead sprint. Lance was going home.


	8. 8.

Keith opened his eyes. Cold smoothness pressed against his cheek; the floor. Everything—the healing pod, the strangeness in Lance’s eyes, the knife—came rushing back to him just as a splitting headache made itself known. Keith winced against the force of it, but managed to drag himself to a wall and sat hunched against it. Leaning his aching head back against the wall, he activated the comms.

“Guys? Lance, uh… well, the good news is that Lance is out of the pods earlier than expected.”

“Excellent! We’ll be right down to check on his progress.” Allura’s voice came though, until Hunk cut her off.

“Good news? So what’s the bad news?”

“Uh, he…seems to think he’s still a prisoner on the Galra ship and we’re all Galra soldiers and he knocked me out with my own knife. And it looks like he’s got his bayard and armor, too.”

There was a beat, and then—

“Bad news? BAD NEWS? Keith you are underselling this hard, this is CATASTROPHIC!” yelled Hunk hysterically, his voice easily drowning out the rest of the team’s fearful questions. Keith’s headache worsened.

“Okay, let’s all focus here for a second.” Shiro’s voice was calm, but Keith could hear that little tremor of fear in it, no matter how in control Shiro tried to sound. “Lance is still on the ship, so we just have to find him, contain him, and then figure out how to reverse whatever they did to him. Pidge?”

“Like I told you guys, I have all the data they kept on him, and I’ve been trying to decipher it, but my translator program isn’t working all that quickly,” Pidge said, frustration and worry coloring their voice.

“Okay. Allura, you speak Galran. Help Pidge with their data, try to figure out what happened to him. Keith, Hunk, Coran- you’re on the ground, with me. We’ll fan out and find Lance. Don’t hurt him, just try to knock him out. Are we all clear?” Shiro’s orders were met with a determined, resounding “yes” from everyone. Ruthlessly pushing his headache back, Keith scrambled up from the floor, grabbed another syringe of sedative, and headed out the door. This was the third time he’d let Lance down: first by insulting him, then by leaving him to be tortured by the enemy, and now this. Keith wouldn’t let it happen ever again.

 

_______

 

_You should have killed him. Now he’ll alert the rest of the Galra._

Racing through the corridors, Lance shook his head sharply. There was no way he could’ve killed not-Keith, even though he wasn’t really Keith. Just the thought of the knife buried in Keith’s neck— Lance shivered, and kept running.

The halls of the ship seemed oddly familiar, and not ghastly purple, but of course they wouldn’t be: this was all just a hallucination, wasn’t it, so it made sense they’d look like the castle-ship. Didn’t it? Hopefully the drug would wear off soon and he’d be able to see things as they really were, and find a way off this damned ship.

Preoccupied, Lance hurtled around a corner and pulled up short. A figure that looked like Hunk was at the other end, back to Lance, seemingly looking for something. “LANCE!” he yelled, and the sound echoed down the corridor and reverberated in Lance’s head, bringing memories of warm laughter and bone-crushing hugs. He started to move towards Hunk—

_That’s not your friend. It’s a trick, an illusion to recapture you, hurt you. RUN._

Lance ran.

Propelled by fear, he blindly rushed on, the corridors of the castle-ship and the purple halls of the prison ship swirling and merging in his mind, until he became so dizzy and disoriented that he stumbled. He went down on one knee, breathing heavily. Flashes of Vint— _I like you better quiet_ —the hazy purple lights as he stared at the ceiling—the clean scent of Keith’s neck— _pain_ , shooting through his back with each crack of the whip—

_Lance. You’re not safe._

Eyes wild, Lance looked up. Shiro _not-Shiro_ stood at the other end of the hallway, hands outstretched. He slowly moved forward, speaking in a gentle, soft voice. “Lance. Hey. I’m not here to hurt you, okay? I just want to help. Tell me how I can help.”

Lance was on his knees. Lance was on his _knees_ — he remembered Vint, speaking in Shiro’s voice, holding him down, drowning—

“No!” Lance shouted, and brought up his bayard to his cybernetic eye in one smooth movement. He fired at the imposter, who dodged the blue beams and lit up his arm. The purple Galra glow filled Lance’s vision, and his stomach dropped in fear.

_He’ll take you back there, back to them, back to Vint. He’s Galra, he has to die._

Snarling, Lance fired again, the optic targeting not-Shiro, analyzing his movements. The shot connected, hitting him in the shoulder. He stumbled backward and hit the wall, human hand flying to the wound, and looked up at Lance with a desperate expression.

“Lance, _please,_ listen to me! You’re home, you’re safe, no one will _ever_ hurt you like that again, I promise. Just please, stop!”

Lance’s grip on his bayard didn’t waver. Not-Shiro’s arm blazed; Lance couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear his eyes from the vicious pink glow. _Kill him,_ the voice in his head urged, and Lance pulled the trigger.

The imposter Shiro blocked the shot with the palm of his cybernetic arm; Lance was already on the move. Pulling not-Keith’s knife from his waistband, his eye calculated distance, speed, and rotation, and he let the knife fly. The air whistled, and not-Shiro let out a cry of pain as the knife pinned his glowing arm to the wall through the palm of his hand. Then Lance was on him, hitting him in the face with the butt of his bayard. Not-Shiro slumped to the floor, unconscious, his hand raised high on the wall where the knife was sunk into it.

Breathing in short, heavy gasps, Lance stepped back and leveled his gun. The sights rested right between the imposter’s closed eyes.

_Do it. He is Galra. Kill him, and escape._

Lance’s finger, once so steady, shook on the trigger. He studied the face in his scope, remembered it looking at him with concern and care, remembered it set with determination. Then his vision shifted, and it was Vint there in the scope, unconscious. At Lance’s mercy. He inhaled, exhaled. Set the shot. This close, he barely needed the assistance of the optic. It would be easy.

_Remember what he’s done to you._ Blood dripping down his back. Electric shocks wracking his body with pain. Fingers in his hair, his mouth— _Take the shot._

Lance shuddered, mind whirling. This wasn’t Shiro, it was Vint, he was sure. So why couldn’t he force his finger to move? Why couldn’t he take the shot?

_Fire. Now. Do it!_

“Lance!”

Lance whipped around and aimed at the newcomer. Keith, not-Keith, stood there, breathing heavily, face stricken. “Stay back!” Lance yelled, his voice only shaking a little bit.

Not-Keith was obviously just as dumb as real Keith, because he ignored Lance entirely and moved forward, towards Lance. “Stop!” Lance tried again, voice breaking. Through the scope, he could see blood dripping from not-Keith’s hairline, blood Lance had drawn. Instead of satisfaction, he felt a little sick.   
 Not-Keith was closer now, and Lance had had enough. He let a shot off, just grazing not-Keith’s stupidly hot leather jacket, and the imposter stopped short. Just stopped, in the middle of the hall, and raised both hands in surrender.

Taken aback, Lance stilled his next shot, ignoring the voice still hissing at him to _shoot, shoot him, kill him,_ and stared.

“Lance,” the imposter said in a shaking voice that didn’t sound like Keith at all, “Please. Please stop. You’re—you’re confused, the Galra must have done something to you, drugged you—“

Flashes of the pink serum, ice in his veins. Lance had almost forgotten. Was that affecting him, was that why the voice was still here?

_Don’t listen!_ hissed the voice. _He lies. Just a trick, just like the healing pod. Kill him!_

Keith _(not-Keith)_ was still talking, words spilling out like a dam had finally burst. “I’m sorry about the pod, and the collar. We should’ve taken it right off, but we were just so worried, there was so much blood, I thought I’d lose you—” his voice broke, but he doggedly continued. “And I’m sorry for leaving you there for so long, we tried to find you, I, I’m sorry, Lance, _please,_ ” and now Keith was crying, voice hitching.

_Kill him, kill him, you useless fool._

Lance shook his head to dislodge the voice; it didn’t help. His heart constricted as Keith looked at him with a desperate, pleading look, tears shining in his eyes, and his mind flashed back to strong arms around him, his face buried in Keith’s neck, an insult spoken with fondness in Keith’s voice—

Lance lowered his bayard, ignoring the screams of protest from the voice, and stared at Keith with wide eyes. “K-Keith? That…really is you?” he ventured, a thread of hope unfurling in his heart.

Keith’s face crumpled in relief. “Yeah, Lance, it’s me, it’s really me,” he said, relieved, and moved towards Lance, who stepped back on instinct. Keith pulled up short, a questioning look on his face.

“Keith, if that is you, don’t— don’t come any closer, please, just…”

“Why?” Keith said, “I just want—I just want to help, Lance!”

“I know,” Lance said, and realized he meant it. “I believe you now, I’m sorry- but there’s something wrong with me, I- I’m dangerous, I might hurt you.”

“I don’t _care_ ,” Keith almost yelled. Lance’s optic dialed in on Keith, analyzing, mapping out the shot, displaying crosshairs right between Keith’s eyes. Lance shook his head in denial, stepping back. “No, no, no…”

_KILL HIM!_ screamed the voice, and Lance’s bayard swung back up at the command, framing Keith’s terrified face in the scope. Horrified, Lance forced his own arms down. “RUN!” he screamed at Keith, who, predictably, didn’t move.

Lance’s focus turned inward, and he collapsed to his knees on the floor of the hallway. The sway the voice had over him was strong, stronger than he’d realized. No wonder he’d believed every word it whispered to him, no wonder he’d forgotten so much. His arms shook from the effort of holding them down at his sides. _You will lose,_ hissed the voice, and Lance knew it was true. 

There was only one way to keep Keith safe, keep all of them safe. With effort, Lance turned his bayard from Keith to himself, notching the barrel of his gun under his own chin. _An interesting move, but not unexpected, given your previous defiance,_ hissed the voice smugly. Keith screamed in shock.

“Lance! What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?” Keith was frozen in place, white with horror, seemingly scared to move lest he set Lance off.

_This may be your best option after all, Lance. They’ll be able to replace you in no time, and Voltron can live on. You’re a danger to them now._

“Keith, I, I hear voices, you’re not safe with me, none of you are,” Lance gritted out. His hands were shaking, holding the bayard, but he’d be able to pull the trigger.

“But we can _help,_ Lance! Pidge and Allura, they’re working on it, we can help you, fix you—“

“Keith, it’s not worth it, I can’t, I can’t risk hurting you. It’s okay, I’m replaceable, you don’t need me—“

“YES I DO!” Keith screamed, and rushed forward. He dropped to his knees in front of Lance and reached out to hold Lance’s shaking shoulders, pleading, “ _I_ need you Lance, that’s such bullshit, _please, please stop—“_

Lance was silently crying, tears streaming down his face. “I’m not—I have to keep you safe— I have to save you—“

Keith surged forward and kissed Lance, his hand moving to cup Lance’s face. Lance was frozen in shock for a beat, and then his mouth moved against Keith’s. His bayard disappeared from under his chin as he brought his arms up around Keith and clutched his shirt like a drowning man. Time froze, and they were lost in the desperation of the kiss, until Keith finally pulled back and rested his forehead against Lance’s, his hand cupped around the back of Lance’s neck. He could feel the tension in Lance’s spine as he fought for control of himself, for as long as he could.

Keith pulled the syringe of sedative from his pocket and wordlessly showed it to Lance. Lance nodded against him, but his hands clutched at Keith’s shirt tighter, and his frame started to shake. Keith cupped Lance’s face, and as gently as he could, depressed the syringe into the brown skin of Lance’s neck. “I’m going to save you,” he promised, as Lance’s eye glazed over and his optic went dark. His frame went lax, and Keith guided him gently to his shoulder. That was how the rest of the team found them: Shiro, unconscious and pinned to the wall, and Keith on the floor, cradling Lance’s body, still crying.


	9. 9.

Keith sighed and dropped his face into his hands, hunched over on the by now very familiar, very uncomfortable infirmary chair. He’d been here for…ten? twelve? hours now, and he hadn’t slept the night before, and the lack of sleep was getting to him. He felt drained and exhausted, leached of any strength, like the dry brittle bones of long dead animals he’d seen in the desert back on Earth. He’d tried to sleep in the other bed next to Lance’s, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Lance back in the corridor; despair in his eyes and his bayard under his chin. Just _thinking_ about that knife-edge, heart-stopping moment was making his blood race and his teeth clench. Keith shook his head, pushing the memory away: he couldn’t deal with that right now, couldn’t deal with how it was so _Lance,_ to make a plan that sacrificed himself, and when he woke up Keith was going to have _words_ with him—

But no one knew how Lance was going to react when he woke up; that was why it was only Keith here in medical. Everyone else, the now-conscious Shiro included, was working frantically on some sort of cure for Lance, to counteract what the Galra had done. Allura and Pidge had finally translated the encrypted portions of the data and pieced it together with what Pidge had already gathered. It was a grim picture, and Keith hadn’t really understood most of it, but the gist of it was that Lance had been induced with some sort of evil Quintessence-enhanced drug that was messing with his brain. The records showed they’d pumped him full of it on the ship, but the collar was the real problem. 

As soon as they’d all gotten back to medical, Keith carrying Lance (he hardly weighed anything, worryingly) and Hunk supporting a semi-conscious Shiro, Keith had insisted that the stupid collar come off. He’d laid Lance down on the bed as gently as he could, and Pidge had sliced the smooth metal collar into several pieces with their bayard, being careful not to nick Lance’s neck. The glowing lights winked out, but the collar hadn’t slid off. 

Pidge had reached out to prod at a section. When it didn’t move, they carefully lifted it, only to pull a long bloody needle out of Lance’s neck along with the piece. It was revealed that multiple needles lined the interior of the plain metal collar, constantly injecting Lance with trace amounts of the serum. 

Hunk had puked. Pidge had gone white, but managed to not drop the broken piece, salvaging the remaining serum inside the collar’s reservoir, and then they’d all rushed off to the makeshift lab Hunk had built, buzzing with theories and possible solutions. Keith had stayed with Lance, treating the puncture wounds on his neck with his rudimentary medical knowledge, to spare Lance the healing pod again. 

Keith would stay, until Lance woke up. _If_ Lance woke up.

As if sensing Keith’s thoughts and deciding to, as usual, prove Keith wrong, Lance made a faint sound. Keith was instantly alert, scanning Lance’s face. It was pinched and worn, a pale shadow of his usual expressiveness; his brown skin pale and sickly against the antiseptic whiteness of the sheets.

Lance’s eyelids twitched, and Keith leaned forward and grabbed Lance’s hand. “Lance? Lance, can you hear me?” 

Lance groaned, and both eyes, cool blue and bright yellow, focused in on Keith’s face. Lance’s familiar crooked grin spread across his face at the sight of Keith, and he rasped out, “What is this, the third time you’ve cradled me in your arms? I’m started to think you just wanna get your hands on me.”

Keith couldn’t help it; he let out a shaky laugh and lurched forward to bury his face into Lance’s neck. Lance’s hands came up around him like before, and he spent a few perfect moments just lying there, listening to the reassuring rhythm of Lance’s heartbeat. 

“Keith?” 

“Yeah?” The words were muffled into Lance’s neck, but Keith didn’t want to move. He could smell the aroma that was so uniquely _Lance,_ that had faded from Lance’s jacket with his absence: a hint of spices and a warm, bright scent that reminded Keith of the blazing afternoon sun, back on Earth.

“So it was real? What I did to you, and Shiro, and…what you said?” Lance’s voice had lost the bravado from moments ago: now it held shame, and underneath, a slight undercurrent of hope.

Reluctantly, Keith pulled back and met Lance’s eyes. The shadows around them were dark, making Lance’s thin, worried face look gaunt and skeletal. 

“Yeah, Lance. It was real. This is real.” Keith squeezed Lance’s hand reassuringly. “I, uh. I meant every word.” Lance’s eyes flicked down to where their hands lay clasped together on the bedsheets, then back up to Keith’s face, and his smile bloomed like the sun. Keith felt himself smiling stupidly back.

The moment only lasted a second. Lance’s optic suddenly flashed brighter, and he inhaled sharply, eyes unfocused.

“Lance?! What’s going on?”

Lance struggled to focus, to meet Keith’s gaze. His words held a forced, eerie calmness that Keith found slightly disturbing.

“I can still hear it. The voice, I mean.”

Keith scrambled for something reassuring to say.

“The team’s working on something to help you. They’re in the control room, I should let them know you’re awake, anyway.” Keith made to stand up, but was stopped by a tightening grip on his hand. 

“Don’t…don’t leave,” Lance said miserably. Keith sat back down, and activated his communicator. “Allura? Yeah, he’s awake.”

Her voice came back over the comm almost instantly. “We’ll be right there, give us maybe twenty, what is it you call them— minutes? Keep him calm, Keith.”

Keith looked back over at Lance. His hand was still gripping Keith’s, but now he stared straight ahead at nothing. “Lance?” Keith tried uncertainly.

Lance didn’t respond, still staring, and then he suddenly slammed his head back into the bed, over and over. “Lance?!” Keith cried, and grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to hold him down. Lance’s face was twisted, his blue eye wide and his optic dimmed, somehow unfocused. 

“Keith, you have to help me. You have to put those” —and here he took a deep breath—“put those restraints back on me. Tie me down. Please.”

“Why? Lance, you can fight this!” Keith said, shaking his head in denial.

“I…I really can’t. The compulsion…it’s strong. And I can’t risk hurting you.”

Keith sighed, defeated: he could see the logic. “Or hurting yourself,” he added, and was slightly mollified when Lance gave a short nod. Keith leaned over and started clasping Lance’s slightly shaking limbs into the restraints.

“Any other time this would be hot,” Lance said with a ghost of a sly grin. Keith couldn’t hold back his snort of laughter, and Lance’s tiny grin grew into a real one.

Once Lance was fully restrained, he visibly relaxed, now that the danger of hurting anyone was gone. Unfortunately, this seemed to help the influence of the serum grow stronger: Lance was shaking, now, and gritting his teeth.

Keith had to know. “What…what is it saying? The voice, I mean.”

Lance huffed out a breath, and looked over at Keith. “Well, it’s not trying to get me to go on a murderous rampage and kill all my friends anymore, so that’s kind of an upgrade?”

“But in the hallway…Lance, what were you _thinking?_ ”

“I was thinking about trying to _save_ you, Keith, you’re welcome.” Lance rolled his one eye; Keith resisted the urge to punch him.

“By _killing_ yourself? Lance, what the fuck? How could that _possibly_ seem like a good idea?” Keith could feel his voice getting more frantic, but he had to know Lance’s reasoning for the moment had taken years off Keith’s life, probably.

Lance squirmed in the bonds, under the force of Keith’s expression. “Well, I’m the danger here, right, and the worst paladin, and Blue could find another pilot, a better one…it’s you guys who needed to be protected, I—I needed to save you, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t see another way out.” He looked up at Keith earnestly. “But I’m sorry Keith, I am. Thank you for saving me.”

Keith slumped in the horrible chair, his heart constricting. Part of this was his fault, for those horrible things he’d said to Lance. _I mean, you’re just a cargo pilot…_ His stomach roiled and he felt like throwing up; he’d never thought Lance would _believe_ him, he’d thought they were just joking, like usual.

“You can’t really believe all those things, Lance, do you? Or is that the serum talking?”

Lance gave a tired laugh. “Honestly, Keith…I can’t even tell anymore. It’s _inside_ me now, it…it never _stops_ , it just…I don’t know what to believe.”

“Then believe _me,_ ” Keith said earnestly, leaning forward and grabbing Lance’s hand. “We need you, Lance. You’re a great pilot, a great shot, your plans are always airtight, you’re brave and funny and…you keep us all together. We need you. I need you.”

As Keith spoke, Lance’s expression had shifted from pain into a kind of disbelieving, shining hope. “I…I need you too, Keith.” He grinned up at Keith, moved forward—and then jolted back, his optic flaring almost white. “It’s… it’s getting worse. I can’t hold on…stay with me?”

“I’ll stay, Lance,” Keith promised, and Lance smiled again. And he stayed, sitting in the horrible chair and holding Lance’s hand, as Lance slowly lost his mind. He struggled in the cuffs, shaking his head and muttering in response to whatever poison the serum was spreading in his mind. 

“No…stop, _stop,_ I—I don’t believe you, Blue…Blue wouldn’t make mistakes…”

This…was not something Keith could fight; his normal modus operandi of sword and knife and boiling rage were useless. Keith activated the comm again. “Allura? You _really_ need to hurry. It’s..it’s getting worse.” 

“Understood, Keith, heading over.”

Keith didn’t bother to acknowledge Allura: Lance was twisting on the bed in his bonds, trying desperately to break free, muttering brokenly. “It’s not true. It’s not true, fuck you…he said, he _said_ …” At a loss, Keith squeezed Lance’s hand tightly. “Lance, buddy, you’re safe, I got you, _please!_ ”

Lance’s eyes locked on Keith for a brief second of lucidity; he gave a confused smile. “Keith?”

“Yeah, Lance, it’s me, just…hold on, okay? They’re coming with something to cure you.” Keith hoped his voice didn’t reflect the anxious doubt he felt constricting his chest.

“Okay, I got this. I got this, no problemo. After this is all over, let’s go flying, just you and…me…” Lance trailed off, attention drifting off to a point beyond Keith’s right shoulder, and the moment was gone. “No…stop, it hurts…not on my knees, don’t…don’t touch me…”

“He never will,” Keith spat venomously. “He’s dead, Lance, he’s dead, he’ll never touch you again.” Lance didn’t seem to comprehend this, still lost in his own head, and then came Hunk’s voice from the doorway.

“He _what?_ That fucking cat thing touched Lance?”

Keith whipped around: the rest of the team stood there, matching expressions of abject horror on every face save Shiro’s; his was full of knowing and sorrow. “Oh, _Lance,_ ” said Hunk miserably, coming forward to stand next to Keith’s chair and looking down at Lance’s restrained, shaking form. “Just hold on, pal.”

“Keith? Do you think you can calm him down enough for us to explain the procedure?” asked Allura, as the rest of the team filtered into medical to stand around Lance’s bed.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” He squeezed Lance’s hand, which seemed to have no effect, so he moved to grasp Lance’s shoulder. “Lance. Come back, Lance. _Lance._ ” He turned towards Keith, tried to focus on Keith’s face.

“Hey, buddy. You gotta focus, can you do that?” Lance nodded, jaw set, and Keith continued. “We think—“ he looked over for affirmation, and everyone nodded— “We think we’ve got a cure for you, okay? Allura’s gonna explain it.”

Allura stepped forward and spoke quickly, as Lance was clearly struggling to keep it together. “The serum has been continually pumped into your bloodstream, degrading your blood cells themselves. The dark Quintessence within the serum is attempting to take control of your mind, through any means necessary. It has not responded to any of our scientific means of treatment, so we have an alternate solution: I will draw the poison from you, in the same manner as I renewed the Balmera. I’ve taken some energy from the ship’s crystal, and I believe this will work, Lance.” 

“Won’t that…hurt you?” said Lance, face screwed up with the effort of focusing. “It’s poison. You’re—you’re the princess, it’s not worth you getting hurt—”

“Lance, I have _had it_ with this _bullshit_.” Keith interrupted furiously. “Don’t fucking listen to that voice, it’s lying, we need you—“

“Keith is right, Lance.” Allura moved to the head of the bed, with her hands on either side of Lance’s temples. He looked up at her, the light from his artificial optic washing over her face. “I never did explain the qualities of the blue lion, did I? She may be the most easygoing, but she is also one of the choosiest.” Flecks of blue-white light began to coalesce within her palms as Allura continued. “The blue lion will only choose the bravest, most daring of pilots, who leap into action with confidence and a plan. As the other leg of Voltron, the blue paladin must hold the team together, and put them above all else, even above himself.”

The flecks of light were now twin orbs, spinning wildly in Allura’s palms, reflecting their own blue-white light onto Lance’s shocked face as he stared up at Allura. She smiled gently down at him. “That paladin is you, Lance. You’ve done wonderfully, but let us help you now. Are you ready?” she asked. Lance’s eyes flicked to Keith, then back to Allura.

“Yes,” he whispered, and clenched his jaw.

Allura closed her eyes, and Keith felt a rush of _power_ run through her, as she brought her hands to Lance’s temples. The orbs disappeared for a moment, then light shone through Allura’s spread fingers. Lance’s eyes, both human and optic, blazed blue-white, and light poured from his mouth as he screamed.

“What’s happening to him?” Keith yelled frantically, as Lance continued to scream, his body arcing and twisting in the cuffs that held him to the bed. Keith made to move forward, do _something_ , but Shiro grabbed him, holding him in place. “Keith, look!”

Allura moved her hands apart slowly, pulling wisps of pinkish purple energy from Lance’s temples. The screaming cut off abruptly, and Lance jerked and spasmed as Allura pulled more and more foul pink energy from him. The pink energy lingered for a moment, then dissipated in the light from Allura’s hands.

Allura drew a last wisp of energy from Lance, who collapsed bonelessly to the bed, his eyes open but unseeing as the light faded from them. It faded from Allura’s hands as well, and then it was gone, leaving everyone blinking in the sudden darkness. Allura swayed and would have crumpled, but Coran was there to support her, and Hunk came around to her other side. Her lashes fluttered and her eyes opened.

“…did it work?” she asked. Keith rushed forward, Shiro right behind him, and Pidge on his other side. Lance’s face was slack, his eyes open, optic black and unlit.

“Lance?” Keith tried, but there was no response. “Get these—help me get these cuffs off,” Keith choked out, and Shiro and Pidge silently complied. Keith lifted a hand to Lance’s cheek, but found it wet with tears. “Lance?” he said again, quietly desperate.

A dim yellow light flickered in Lance’s dark optic, and he blinked and tried to focus in on Keith’s face. “Lance? Lance, are you okay?” Keith said frantically.

“Better now that you’re here, babe,” Lance deadpanned, and Keith laughed weakly in relief. Then Lance threw himself forward, and Keith suddenly found his arms full of slightly shaking blue paladin. “Again with the cradling,” he said softly into Lance’s hair, and smiled when Lance huffed a laugh into his neck. 

The bed dipped alarmingly as Hunk sat on the other side and wrapped his huge warm arms around both Keith and Lance, then promptly burst into tears. “Aw, big guy,” Lance said fondly, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“Good,” said Pidge, worming their way into the hug from the other side. “Now never do that again.”

“Ah yes, group hugs. A proper paladin bonding experience!” Coran proclaimed, and dove into the pile, closely followed by Shiro and Allura. The bed squealed in protest, but nobody paid it any mind as they all squeezed together, laughing at Coran as he tried to hug everyone at once. Then the bed gave up and collapsed, spilling everyone onto the floor amid more laughter and chaos. Keith felt his heart lift as he watched Lance laugh, and he pulled Lance a little tighter, just to reassure himself that this was real. Lance turned his face up to Keith’s and pushed forward. Their lips met, and everything was perfect, just in that instant, but to Keith, it felt like it could go on forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's so late, it was a bit harder for me to write! Only one more chapter of gooey comfort to go!


	10. 10.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, at the end. Thanks for sticking around for my first published fanfic, I deeply, deeply appreciate all your comments!

He couldn’t go out there. He couldn’t face everyone, not like this.

Lance sighed and thunked his head against Blue’s control panel. She mentally nudged him, questioning gently, but he swatted her concern away. “I’m _fine_ , I just…” _I’m just having a mental breakdown over seeing my face for the first time._

It had been a day since Allura had removed the last of the serum from Lance, and he’d been pronounced well enough to leave medical. Just in time, too: Lance had been a few ticks from beating the door down with his fists. He wasn’t bored, not with the constant stream of visitors: Hunk visited him with delicious, Earth-inspired food; Pidge popped in with his music player, which they’d added a bunch more features to; and Keith had to basically be forced to leave and go to bed by Allura. They filled the void left by the voice, with affection instead of hatred. But still, he wanted to be out of this damn medical ward and into a place that wouldn’t hold… _unpleasant_ associations.

The first thing he did, even before finding the team, was head straight to the washracks for a long, hot shower. He was already clean, the healing pod had taken care of that; but even as a kid, a hot shower had always made him feel more human, more like a _person_. Lance set the shower to probably an unhealthy temperature and stepped in the glass enclosure. The burning hot stream of water washed away the feel of being tied down, the smell of his own sweat and blood, Vint’s crawling touch; everything drained away, until there was just Lance, and he could breathe again.

He stepped out refreshed and ready to go find some decent lunch. Scrubbing a towel roughly over his head, he reached for his pile of clean clothes. And stopped short.

There, in the wall mirror, was his reflection. Lance usually spent a ridiculous amount of time in front of the mirror - skincare was a _commitment_ , not a hobby - but whoever stared back at him now was a stranger. He was thin to the point of sickness, skin stretched tight over his ribs and laced with pale scars where Vint had clawed him, where the druids had burned him. Shiny new skin circled his wrists and ankles, where he’d strained at the cuffs during the electric shocks. Lance twisted, revealing a dense crisscross of whip marks, bright against the brown skin of his back and shoulders. Breathing heavily, he traced the scars with his eyes, until he finally met his own gaze in the mirror.

One eye blue and human. The other an alien yellow lens, blazing brightly with distress. “No, nonono…” Bile rose up in his throat and he retched; horrible, wracking dry heaves that brought up nothing from his stomach. He chanced another glance at the mirror: the yellow optic, like Vint’s eyes, like Karsa’s, still stared back from his own face, He pulled clothes on his ruined body as fast as he could, desperate to cover the scars, and fled.

Now here he was in Blue, debating on if eyepatches were fashionable in space or not. There was that whole “space cowboy” thing, so it wouldn’t seem weird if he just started wearing one, right?

Blue loyally agreed, but Lance knew she was lying. He stared unseeing at the console and wondered if his hands would ever stop shaking.

Blue nudged him again, telling him he had a visitor. Lance swiveled the pilot’s seat, and there was Shiro, hand braced on the wall.

“Oh, hey, Shiro…I’m, uh, sorry about your arm. Sorry.”

“It’s not a problem,” Shiro said gently, “Pidge and Hunk managed to fix it for me. And they learned more about Galra tech in the process.”

“Oh, right. Good.” Lance glanced away and stood up. “Guess you’re here for a debrief, then.” He sighed and looked Shiro square in the face. “I didn’t tell them anything about the ship, the lions, or the other paladins. I know you only have my word on this, but—“

“Lance, hey, hey!” Shiro cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. “I know, Lance. I believe you’d never say anything that would harm the team. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Uh…okay. Then why are you here?”

“To see if you’re okay, Lance. We tried to find you when you were released from medical, Allura told us you’d gone to take a shower, and…and I kind of guessed the rest.”

Lance couldn’t meet Shiro’s gaze, and looked down at his shoes. The floor was getting kinda dirty, he needed to clean in here or he’d never pass Coran’s maintenance checks.

“Lance.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed. “I know, better than anyone, what you’re going through right now. Talk to me.”

With a huff of breath, Lance met Shiro’s steady, gentle gaze. “I just…they made me a tool, like, a really confused assassin with great aim, and every time I look in the mirror I see it, I see what they did; I-I remember them saying, _his weapon’s a rifle,_ they chose me instead of Allura because they thought I’d break easier, and then they made me into one of their weapons. And that was just their contingency plan! I almost _killed_ you, Shiro—“

“But you didn’t.” Shiro’s voice was warm and sure, cutting through Lance’s increasingly hysterical ranting. “You didn’t, Lance, Keith told me you couldn’t pull the trigger. You’re not their weapon, no matter what they tried to do, _you_ were strong enough, loyal enough, to break free. You— you would have killed yourself, rather than any of us. That’s not being a tool, Lance. That’s being a paladin.”

Shiro’s voice softened with regret. “And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that we didn’t get there in time to save your eye, I wanted to accept the trade, I would’ve—“

“Vint wouldn’t have given me back. He would’ve just killed us both.” 

“I know.” Shiro’s hand dropped from Lance’s shoulder, both looking down at the cybernetic arm. 

“We’re not broken, Lance,” Shiro said abruptly, and Lance looked at him, looked at the scar that marred his handsome features. “They did their best, they took a lot from us, but we’re _not_ broken soldiers. We’re stronger for it, like steel. They didn’t break us. They couldn’t.”

“And we’ve got the scars to prove it,” Lance said, and tried for a smile.

“Yeah,” Shiro smiled back ruefully, “We do.” He slung his arm around Lance’s shoulder, and they made their way out of Blue’s cockpit. “By the way, Keith was looking for you earlier,” Shiro said offhand, and Lance’s watery smile solidified into a grin.

 

Lance didn’t need to ask where Keith was; he could feel him, faintly, through the paladin bond. It was a bunch of mumbo-jumbo, but right now it was a useful bunch of mumbo jumbo, so Lance would take it. He knocked on the door to Keith’s room, and the door slid open.

“Hey, Keith, Shiro said you were looki— is that my jacket?”

Keith’s face turned as red as his lion. “Uh, I found it, outside. I was just keeping it. Safe. For you.”

“Suuuure,” Lance said teasingly, “Or you decided to upgrade from that cropped motorcycle thing to a warm, full-coverage jacket?”

Still blushing, Keith shot him a look. “You _like_ me in the motorcycle jacket, though, don’t you?”

“Yes, actually, I do, I take it all back,” Lance backpedaled frantically, and felt his cheeks glow a little at Keith’s honest laugh. They glowed even more as Keith rushed forward and grabbed his hands.

“C’mere,” Keith growled, and pulled Lance into the room, shutting the door behind them. “Where were you earlier? I looked for you, Allura said you’d been released, but Shiro said he’d find you.”

“I, uh—“ Stalling for time, Lance sat down heavily on the bed, and Keith sat next to him. “I kind of…freaked out in the showers.” He looked down at his hands, at the new scars circling his wrist, and clenched his fists.

“The…your eye?”

“Yeah, I mean, it. It looks like theirs. Like the Galra.”

Keith’s hand covered Lance’s, his thumb gently tracing over a scar. “I’m so sorry, Lance, I…wish we’d gotten there sooner.”

“It’s okay.” Keith looked at him doubtfully. “Really, it is. And I remembered, you killed Vint when he…well, thanks. For that.” 

Keith’s face darkened, but his hand on Lance’s remained gentle. “He deserved it,” he spat venomously. “For touching you, for _hurting_ you…I wish I could’ve gotten that witch, too.”

_Karsa, her hands coming towards his eye, an expression of glee on her purple fucking face…_

“Yeah,” Lance said, jolting back to the present. “Yeah, me too.”

They sat in silence for a moment, staring straight ahead. Keith shifted, and blurted out, “I’m sorry about your eye, too. Shiro said he’d talk to you. About it.”

“He did. He—I’m okay, Keith. It’s just gonna take some getting used to, is all.” Lance said, and added, “And hey, if I can’t make this look work, then my name’s not Lance.”

Keith burst out laughing, and Lance’s heart swelled affectionally, and then even more when Keith turned to face him, those intense eyes shining.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who’s as strong, and constant, and _vital_ as you, Lance; when you were gone I, I realized how much I _needed_ you,” Keith said earnestly. “And I want to apologize for what I said before you were taken, I, I never meant that, I’m so sorry, Lance—“

Keith’s face was full of emotion, and he was _apologizing_ with those big gorgeous eyes, and Lance couldn’t hold back; he surged forward and kissed Keith, stopping him mid-apology, tangling his fingers in Keith’s long hair and pulling him closer. Keith responded eagerly, moving his mouth wetly over Lance’s, and brought both his hands up to cup Lance’s face. It was slow, compared to the desperation of their first kiss, slow and sweet but still needy. He was lost in the smooth slide of Keith’s lips, the gentle caresses of his jaw, the silky feeling of Keith’s (stupidly attractive) mullet, until finally Keith pulled back and rested his forehead to Lance’s, like before, in the corridor. Lance’s optic threw faint light over Keith's face, making the depths of his eyes glitter and forming shadows below his sharp cheekbones.

Reaching up, Lance traced his thumb over Keith’s cheek, over the line of Keith’s jaw, and his hands were no longer shaking. “I need you too, Keith,” Lance said breathlessly, and Keith smiled, bright and joyful, and kissed him again.


End file.
